


beautiful people will ruin your life

by traumatic



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, American Boy Squad, American Girl Squad, American Isak, Angst, Arguing, Car Accidents, Deception, Drinking, Even's sort of an asshole, Friends to Lovers, Hook-Up, Isak's dad is a shithead, Loneliness, M/M, Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Norwegian Balloon Squad, Norwegian Even, Pining, Problems, Semi-Public Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, United States, Writing on Skin, actually not even sort of, bc he IS an asshole lol, honestly someone should've stopped me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: Isak is eight when the first mark appears on his skin. He knows it's happening. Or happened, he supposes. His soulmate has made their appearance.Or, in a world where two people can communicate solely by writing on their skin, Isak and Even are the best of friends until a lie burrows its way between them and nearly rips them apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from the new The Wombats album of the same name. 
> 
> a brief reminder that, as a person who doesn't speak Norwegian, the translations are from Google Translate. If you happen to know better, let me know and I'll fix the problems :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Isak is eight when the first mark appears.

It's a red heart in the space between his thumb and index finger, sketched softly but firmly.

He knows for a fact that he hadn't written it there—he's not allowed to use pens or markers after he coated his arms with green spots and announced he was Sully from Monsters Inc—so he knows it's happening.

Or happened, he supposes.

His soulmate has made their appearance.

Not everyone has one, see, but the ones that do are able to contact them through ink on their skin. Isak, as a little boy, doesn't know the sciencey stuff behind it and frankly, at this point in his life, doesn't care.

All he knows is that now he's got a soulmate and he's terrified.

-

Two weeks later, he's in a car accident.

He's not supposed to sit in the front, but his dad insists. Says he's a big boy and needs to act like it.

Isak buckles himself into the passenger’s seat and smiles toothily at his dad who grins back. When he breathes, the car fills with the bitter and sickly scent that Isak has come to associate him with.

His mother calls it the drink of the devil, but that can't possibly be true; his father wouldn't drink something so bad for him, would he?

His dad starts the car, takes a sip from the metal container her keeps in his jacket, and begins to drive. Isak watches, fascinated, out of the window as the streets pass by in a blur, his dad driving so fast he can't even make out the street signs.

His dad cries out suddenly, so Isak turns to looks at him and the car flips. His door caves in and something hits him hard on the side of his head.

The pain isn't immediate, but he feels pressure. So much pressure that his ear pops. Then the pain hits. His ribs, his arm, his _head._

He can't hear anything, but watches helplessly as the car flips over and over, sees the blood on his own hands once it stops. His seatbelt cuts into his neck as he hangs above the shattered windshield and he watches the scattered sunlight fade until he feels someone grab his shoulder. 

A fireman. His mouth is moving, but he's not saying anything. There's nothing, so Isak shakes his head fervently and cries out. Why can't the man speak? Why is Isak being punished like this?

The fireman tosses a blanket over his face and Isak doesn't understand. He's so scared and he wants to see because no one's talking and no one is making any sense, so he tosses the blanket off his face. Sparks fly in, bright in the growing darkness, and scorch his skin. 

Why are they doing this?

He’s sure he's screaming, can feel the pain from how loud his shouting truly is, but it makes no noise, or maybe he can't hear it. Maybe it wasn't the fireman who wasn't understanding. Maybe Isak's gone deaf. 

He smells smoke and then the door is wrenched away from him. Flood lights are set up and the light burns Isak's eyes as the fireman cuts him free, lays him down on a gurney, and whisks him away. Over his shoulder, Isak can see their car, mangled and smoking. He doesn't see his dad, so he watches in silence as he's finally dragged from the wreckage as the car catches flame and burns. The fire is so bright that they don't even need the spotlights anymore.

The fireman pats him on the hand, smiles, says something Isak can't hear, and disappears. An EMT takes his place. Isak lets his neck relax and he stares up at the dark sky. 

Why is the world so cruel?

-

Isak’s only 9 when the doctor’s tell him he’ll always be deaf in his right ear from the trauma of hitting his head. His dad, imprisoned for drinking and driving, will probably never walk again.

Somehow, Isak, even so young, can't bring himself to forgive him. His mother, a delicate woman who was already close to "the edge”, as Isak’s dad had called it, breaks down. Isak goes to stay with his best friend’s family for the time being and she goes to a madhouse. 

He doesn't miss one thing about his house. Not his bed or the window in the living room or the daisies that grew in the summers. Not his mom or his dad or their fights. Not Sundays spent kneeling at an altar or memorizing bible verses on Saturdays evening. 

It's fucked up, of course, but how can he miss a place he never felt safe in? A place where he was verbally abused and forced into accepting guilt for things he couldn't change? How can he ever forgive his parents for what they put him through?

Thankfully, Jonas’ mom is everything Isak's never was. She doesn't make him pray or ask him to repent. She just tells him stories about kings who fall in love with whoever they want and princesses who save themselves, of frogs who don't want to be kissed and of the truth behind Ring Around The Rosie. 

He gets a hearing aid and she teaches him how to change the batteries because she has one, too.

It's as good a life as he thinks he'll ever get.

-

Isak’s thirteen when the first words are written to him.

He still lives with Jonas and his family, has his own room now, and has made peace with his one deaf ear. He has not, however, made peace with his family. Maybe he never will. 

The words are written on his veins and are nothing specific, just small lines in purple ink that rhyme. Most likely song lyrics.

 **I hope that no one ever leaves,**  
 **Because I don't wanna be alone with me,**  
 **not with the things that rush up and down this symphonous smile.**  
  
 **Here comes the love, anxiety,**  
 **can't let it grab a hold of me,**  
 **not like the last time.**

Isak doesn't respond, hasn't ever, but looks up the song and listens to it for hours.

It's good, though not necessarily his style. His soulmate likes it, though, and that's all that matters.

-

Isak knows every The Wombats song by fourteen. The songs are fluid and nice, with great beats and thought-provoking and sometimes dark lyrics, so it’s not a far jump from the stuff he usually listens to.

Jonas questions the new music taste, but doesn't push too hard. After all, Isak’s typically very weird and has been that way for a long time.

Jonas doesn't have barriers like Isak does, so he makes lots of friends. He's outgoing, an extrovert and, while he understands why Isak isn't like him in that sense, he doesn't care. He drags Isak to parties and for burgers with strangers, hoping the two sides of his life will mesh together and become one. 

His attempts never fail, though, because how can Isak say no to a boy who's done so much for him? How can he be mean or angry with someone who saved his life?

The answer is that he can't. Which sucks. 

Jonas is 13 and it still works when he asks, “Wanna sleep over Eva’s tonight? She's having a party!”

“Won't it be weird if I just show up?”

Isak is never invited to these sorts of things because he's quiet and keeps to himself. It's mostly because he doesn't want to embarrass himself when someone talks to him in his bad ear and they have to repeat themselves until his brain can make sense of the words, but also because he doesn't need any other friends. He likes Jonas and he likes himself.

“Not at all!” Jonas says, looking offended. “She said to invite you, too.”

Isak sighs, knows Jonas is lying, but nods anyway. Jonas could get him to do anything if he tried hard enough.

-

Eva’s parties will become legendary over the next few years, but for now, they're just a bunch of little kids dreaming of opening the liquor cabinet and getting plastered.

Eva’s mom orders pizza and they eat it surrounding the television, scary movies playing loudly from it. Isak’s sure it’s Final Destination and he knows Jonas is probably pissing his pants because he hates these movies, so he can't help but grin silently to himself.

Isak’s skin tingles and he sees more song lyrics appear on his skin like magic, which it isn't. This time he knows the words, though, knows the band like the back of his hand. He's ready.

He runs to the bathroom with a weak excuse and a pen. He slams the door and leans against it, nervous and excited, sliding down so his bum is on the ground.

 **I'm only here because**  
**I feel the day deserves a truly sordid end**

“Hi,” he says to himself as he scribbles the next set of words.

 **We feel nothing so jump into the fog**  
**In the hope that we hit the ground upright**

He sits there anxiously before realizing he'd fucked it up. He must've. His soulmate is going to ignore him and never forgive him, but for what? For responding?

_Ridiculous._

“Isak?” Eva’s mom knocks on the door. “Everything alright, love?”

Isak stares at his knees and shakes his head when there's no tingle, no response. What had he done wrong? Why does he always do everything wrong?

“Yeah,” he says and his voice cracks. “I'm good. Just had to pee.”

He's fucked it up.

-

It takes Isak’s soulmate two years to write back again and the words aren’t even a message to him, but at least they're something.

**Meds at 18**

A reminder. Isak is so excited he could scream. So he does.

He's sixteen. All of his friends have been having full conversations with their mates for over a year— except for Eva— and he's the only one who's gotten the silent treatment for trying to respond.

Isak immediately runs to Jonas, hands shaking as he pushes open his door. 

“They responded!”

“What'd they say?” Jonas looks excited for him, grinning softly.

“I mean...it's not to _me_...but it's better than nothing, you know? It was a reminder to take their meds.”

Isak’s soulmate had to have tried really really hard not to accidentally scribble something on their skin and the entire thought that they tried to avoid him so thoroughly hurts his chest. Isak had done the same, of course, but only to keep his soulmate happy.

“It sure is something,” Jonas agrees.

He and his soulmate have been corresponding for three months in secret; they don't even know each other's names yet.

Isak just smiles down at his arm and leaves quietly.

He's glad his soulmate is okay.

-

Isak sees his mom again for the first time in years when he's eighteen. The facility she's been at doesn't allow underage visitors, so he'd been barred from seeing his own mother for 10 years because of a rule.

When they give him the go ahead and he finally sees her, he realizes she's nothing now, the barest of bones, the most fragile of smiles. She’s tiny and probably half the size she used to be. She wears glasses now; her hair's gone grey. 

Marianne tells him how much she's missed him. He wishes he was telling the truth when he tells her he missed her, too, but he’s lying. He tried not to think of her or his shithead dad who, thankfully, is still rotting in prison.

Sometimes his dad tries to call, but Jonas’ mom doesn't let him. Hangs up on him because she knows how Isak feels and respects that. She trusts him to make his own decisons like his parents never did. 

When Isak's visit is over, he promises to come back, but isn't sure he can. Tells her he loves her. Then he leaves.

-

The next message from Isak’s soulmate is not a word but an image. Two hands pressed together at the fingertips surrounded by a circle of light on the back of his left shoulder. It's beautiful and somehow stunning for a bunch of black lines. 

Even after a week, it never quite fades away which means it’s permanent on his soulmate. A tattoo.

Isak imagines getting one upon himself, but fears of upsetting his soulmate into another fit of silence. Into remembering their connection so they stop. 

He walks around his house shirtless to show off the hands before they fade into a pale outline, takes numerous photos of his sort of muscular back, and posts thirteen snaps to his story.

He's really really proud of his soulmate. He hopes his soulmate is as proud of him as he is of them.

-

At nineteen, he goes to NYU and meets Jonas’ friends.

Somehow, they become Isak’s friends, too, which is cool. Isak and Magnus click instantly because he’s an ass, but he’s sort of funny sometimes. Mahdi takes a little time, but that’s understandable; Isak’s very hard to like. Then he meets Elias, Even, and Mikael who are all from Norway on an exchange program. They came to NYU for college and speak better English than Magnus does.

Isak realizes he’s gay shortly after being introduced to Even, who is perfect in every imaginable way. Tall and blond and funny with a bright smile and the best sense of humor. 

Isak has a dream a couple weeks after meeting him about Even's hands squeezing his hips and his thighs and his ass and that’s it. Isak’s gay now.

Or, well, he’s out. He’s always been gay.

-

At twenty, he gets over his fear of upsetting his mate.

Honestly, he's tired of being ignored and wants his soulmate to react. Wants them to be angry or frustrated or pissed off. 

So he gets a tattoo. It's a set of thin bands around his upper arm, which he only chose because he likes the aesthetic of them. It’s his life; he can do what he wants with it.

No one can force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, especially not a person Isak has never met, never spoken to, and might possibly never even love, so Isak does it and his body fills with as much adrenaline as it does pain.

His soulmate will get what the act of defiance is. If not, Isak will move on. He can't wait around forever for someone who won't acknowledge his existence.

So he lets this guy Even somehow knows tattoo rings around his arm and he smiles at the thought of his soulmate either being angry or impressed. While it stings, the satisfaction of possibly pissing off his soulmate relieves it.

Later that week, he takes of his shirt to find a small pink heart stretched in between the two lines. He smiles for hours, smug, but tells no one; it's their secret.

-

It’s Isak’s 21st birthday and he’s out getting fucked up with his friends when it happens. He doesn’t mean it to, has been trying very hard not to think about Even all night, but he presses him into a corner and kisses him with fervor he didn’t know he had.

Even kisses him back, squeezes his hips exactly like Isak had imagined he would, and lets Isak trace the curves of his body with his fingertips beneath his shirt. His fingers on Isak’s skin feel so good that he decides halfway through he might just cum in his pants from that alone.

Even presses his knee between Isak’s thighs, gets lost in the music, and kisses Isak for what feels like seconds and hours until Isak is straight up gasping against his lips, frozen with his hand half stuffed down Even’s pants, his own dick aching as he grinds down on Even’s knee.

He cums hard and fast and wet, his jeans already slick with sweat, and, like a fucking teenager, pushes Even into a dark corner of the club and sucks him off right there. 

Isak wasn’t drunk and neither was Even, but it never happens again; They don’t even talk about it.

Two weeks later, Even comes out as pansexual. Isak buys him a pin for his jacket and Even tells them he’s seeing a blonde girl named Sonja from him psychology class.

Isak tries not to be hurt, but it’s useless. He’d unintentionally started to like one of his closest friends who obviously just has a thing for skinny blonds.

-

Isak is 21 and a ½ when his soulmate writes to him. For real.

He’s lived in a flat in New York for a couple years now, goes to NYU with Jonas, and survives off of his part time job at the hospital and money he gets from his dad as a part of his early release agreement from prison.

He wishes he was financially stable enough to not need it, but he isn't, so he takes it. After what Terje stole from him, he deserves the money.

Isak has never been very good at making friends, so Even makes them for him, forces them to like each other so much that they become Isak’s friends, too. Mutasim, Yousef, and Adam are friends of all of the other Norwegians and, at first glance, don't seem to like Isak very much. After a while, though, and a couple joints, they calm down. Then they're friends, just like that.

Isak just thinks it’s cool how they’re living in a country that speaks an entirely different language and they’re just rolling with it. If they don’t know how to say something in English, they try. They learn. They fuck it up. They laugh.

It’s fucking awesome.

Isak feels a little stupid, a little bit like he’s trying to hard, but he downloads Duolingo on his phone and starts to learn a little so he can help them. He knows they have each other, but he wants to be in the loop, too.

He even wonders if NYU has a class on it. Then, when he finds out they do, he signs up for it in Spring semester and tells no one.

-

Isak’s well into his education and only a couple months after his 22nd birthday when his soulmate makes another appearance.

Whoever they are, they’re irritatingly good at not getting ink on themselves and it disappoints Isak a lot because he’s terribly messy and sometimes will have to physically stop himself from writing his grocery list on his forearm.

He’s studying for his verbal Norwegian final— Jesus Christ, he’s not ready. He’s not. Not at all— when he feels it, a tingle, a gentle poke, on the back of his hand.

**Hey.**

Isak immediately, anxiously, reaches for the red pen on of the coffee table and begins to write back with nervousness.

“What's up, bro?” Magnus leans over him to look at his outstretched arm. “Soulmatey stuff! Cool!”

Magnus shakes Isak’s body, causing him to scribble all over his own greeting. 

“Christ,” he murmurs sharply and jabs Magnus in the arm with the pen. “Leave me be.”

Isak crosses out Magnus’ fuck up. **~~Hi.~~** He writes **shit** **,** **sorry** instead.

After all, they share an arm.

A second later, they respond.

**Don't worry about it :)**

Isak smiles so wide it aches, draws a shitty, stereotypical heart around the words, and sighs happily.

-

Isak is 23 when they learn each other's names.

Even, Elias, and Jonas watch him carefully these days, afraid he’ll run away to seek out his mate like some kind of horny teenager, which is more than common for some. They have a right to be worried, of course, but Isak can't run to someone whose name he doesn't even know. Someone who he’s never even written words to because mostly they bond over shitty sketches in elbows or behind bent knees.

It’s weird and incomprehensibly cute. It’s also fucking frustrating.

Isak is outside when he lights a cigarette and takes a drag, legs dangling through the bars on his balcony. He’s not supposed to smoke from there, but he can’t be bothered to give a shit, honestly. It’s not like he’s snorting lines of coke from the railing; Nicotine is currently legal in the state of New York. Fuck the housing committee.

 **Je m’appelle** **Harry,** is written on the inside of his index finger.

If he were any less cool, he'd respond with ‘maybe you should shave’, but he's not, so he doesn't. Instead he writes down his own name above his bellybutton after using Google Translate to make sure _je m’appelle_ means what he thinks it does.

 **Cool** , is what appears across one of his toes, a couple moments later. **Pas** **Isaac?**

 **Nope :) not even close. Completely different i sound.** he replies, green ink bright on the skin of his ribs.

A second later, there's black ink on the inside of his ankle that says **you are American? Or English?**

Isak bites his lip; he’s nervous he’ll scare off Harry, his fucking _soulmate_ , by saying too much. He can’t bring himself to stop, though.

**American. You’re French?**

**Something like that.**

**Yeah and that’s not suspicious at all :/**

**Je peux parler francais et anglais...peux-tu?**

Isak has to get out his phone again and type that last bit into Google Translate. Who knew Norwegian would be so impractical?

**Not at all. I can speak a little Spanish and Norwegian, but obviously that won’t help lol**

Language barriers aren’t uncommon amongst soulmates. They even have apps and in person translators dedicated to bridging them.

**What’s lol?? Is it like mdr?**

Isak sighs and gets out his phone again, types mdr into google. Death by laughing. The french are a strange people.

**Yeah, same thing. How’s your english?**

**Pretty good. How old are you?**

**I'm 23. You?**

**24.**

**Where do you live in France?**

**The north. Where in the US do you?**

**New York with my best friends.**

**I have always wanted to visit there!**

**You should,** Isak is nervous now, almost too nervous to write it, but he does it anyway. **Then we could meet.**

Harry’s response takes a few hours, but when it shows up, Isak grins with utter happiness.

**I’d love that, Isak. Maybe then you could back to France with me. We can go to the beach!**

-

Isak is at work a week later when he gets a message on the inside of his wrist. It's short and blunt and, frankly, it hurts his feelings a little.

**Can we only write in non-visible places? I don't want anyone to see the words an d ask about them.**

Basically Harry wants to hide Isak away.

 **Okay** , is all Isak says, feeling worthless and angry and maybe a little sad.

-

Isak is 24 and pining for two people at once and it fucking sucks. He dangles halfway off of Even’s couch, halfway in love with _him,_ and watches him kiss Sonja on her nose, his smile so bright he can barely manage. 

Isak knows they aren't soulmates— Sonja’s soulmate is part of the anti-soulmate movement and decided to sever their connection years ago with the pill— but he wishes they were. Maybe then Isak could get over him and move on. Stop staring at him and hoping they can run away together.

Sonja says something in Swedish to Even that sounds despicably like ‘does he ever do anything but lay around?’ because she doesn't like him and also because she's from fucking Sweden. Even responds with ‘he's going through finals; leave him be’ and they share a secret laugh.

Well, joke’s on them. Isak knows exactly what they're saying, so he scowls at her and crosses his arms.

-

Later that night, Harry writes a poem on his hip. It's so private that Isak stares at it with delicate, heartbroken eyes and a sigh.

**yes**

**it is possible**

**to hate and love**

**someone**

**at the same time**

**i do it to myself**

**everyday.**

 

He responds with a question in purple ink.

**Why would you say that?**

**Because it's true.**

**Oh. Well, I only know you through sketches and lyrics and poems, but, Harry, you truly are beautiful. Truly. You have a gentle heart and a vision of the world that I honestly wish I could see.**

**Thank you, Isak.**

**Of course.**

**Good night, Isak.**

**Good night, Harry.**

-

When he wakes up, there's another.

**you've touched me**

**without even**

**touching me.**

This time, Isak doesn't respond. Can't because he doesn't know how to. Instead, he stared at the words and Googles them. A shitty book full of sad, twisted, and heartbroken poems come up by Rupi Kaur. Isak finds a PDF and reads the entire thing for free.

He decides it's pretty bad when he's halfway through and then almost awful when he finishes.

-

Isak’s 25 when he actually decides he can’t keep doing this.

His soulmate, Harry, evades Isak’s questions at every turn. He always has an answer, another loaded question to ask Isak but to never answer for himself. It’s utterly frustrating and Isak can’t take it.

Harry knows almost all there is to know about Isak, from the weird birthmark between his toes to the fact that he has a bad and nearly non-existent relationship with his parents, that his mom is locked up in a psych ward upstate. That he still has nightmares of the car crash that caused his deafness where he's trapped inside the car as it burns and his skin melts off of his hands.

Isak only knows a handful of things about Harry at most. He has a mom with whom he meets once a week for lunch ( **dej @ cafe avec maman** ) and enjoys scribbling song lyrics to eccentric, occasionally awful songs in various, unerringly coverable, places all over his body. He also works a couple days a week, usually during school hours, so he doesn’t go to a college or has already graduated. He apparently regularly takes medicine and also usually uses English quite a bit— maybe it’s for Isak’s benefit?—which is weird as fuck.

The last straw is a response written above his navel where Isak’s skin is paper white and his hair is blond and light, a place the sunlight rarely sees.

Isak had asked, blue ink pressed into the skin of his knee, if Harry would snap him on or add him on Facebook or Skype him or something; he just wanted to know what he looks like is all, wants to hear his voice and see the things he likes enough to share with the world.

In ugly yellow ink, he responds. **I don’t have any social media. And I don’t have a webcam.**

It’s almost like Isak’s being catfished; where are Nev and Max when you need them?

Isak’s so angry he responds right on his fucking forearm in bright red ink. He’s fucking pissed, so he completely disregards Harry's wishes and scribbles down words in a haste unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

**I need to know if you’re fucking me over. I’m fucking sick of this back and forth shit, man, and I need an answer.**

**Isak, please.**

**Harry, answer the goddamn question.**

**Can we have this conversation somewhere else?**

**We’re going to have it right here! Answer me right now or we’re done.**

**Isak, wait, please!!!! Give me some time! I have to work through this.**

**Go fuck yourself. We're done.**

-

Isak’s in a mood for the rest of the week while his skin gets inked up in spots all over his stomach and ribs and thighs and he works day and night. He even finds a sketch of a flower in bloom in the space where his leg creases into his pelvis.

He ignores them all.

His friends are gone and Isak should’ve gone with them. Should’ve gone out and gotten fucked up instead of staying in his fucking room in his stupid apartment and dying on a Friday night.

Fortunately, Even’s around somewhere, is probably locked in his own room downstairs, so Isak pulls on his best jeans and styles his hair; he needs to go out and get drunk or high or something. He needs a goddamn distraction.

He sprays himself with cologne, something woodsy and artsy that he originally hated when Even gave it to him for Christmas three years ago but now loves, and waits for the elevator after he locks up his apartment. Once he’s inside, he tries to call Even, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Fortunately, Isak has a key to his apartment, so once he’s outside the door, he lets himself in. A noseful of vanilla greets him.

“Even!” Isak shouts and his voice reverberates off of the sunset orange colored walls. “Get dressed; we’re going out!”

He tosses his keys onto the coffee table and looks around. No Even in sight. Isak pushes open his bedroom door and peeks inside; Even’s asleep in his bed, comforter haphazardly tossed over his body.

“Even!” Isak shouts at full volume, reaching out to shake his leg. “Get up!”

It’s then that Isak notices the joint burning in the ashtray beside his bed and he realizes Even’s faking being asleep.

What a dick.

“Get up!” Isak toes off his shoes and catapults himself into the empty half of Even’s bed. “Come on.”

“Isak?” Even whispers and he’s so obviously faking that Isak laughs. _“Fy faen!_ Why are you in my bed?”

“I need to go get drunk and I can’t go alone or I’ll go home with a stranger.”

“So...you want a babysitter?”

“Well, no, I want a drinking buddy who’ll fight off the many men and misunderstanding women chasing after my ass.”

“Oh, _lovely,”_ Even snaps. “I don’t want to. Go back to your bed and get out of mine.”

“Why are you being so mean?”

“Isak, I don’t want to babysit you like you’re a toddler! I just want to sleep, okay, sleep and try and forget that this is my life!”

Isak frowns at him, looks his face over, and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Are you...is it an episode?”

Even’s sort of bipolar, but it’s not a big deal. It never has been, in fact.

Isak had surprised himself when he took it in stride. He realized his problems in the past were with the people and not the illnesses, though, thanks to Even, and that blaming everyone with a mental illness was wrong and offensive.

“No,” Even shakes his head. “I just...I’m having a really shitty week and seeing yo— _going out_ isn’t what I want to be doing.”

“We can stay in and get shit faced,” Isak supplies. “I’ve got rumchata and that whipped vodka shit Magnus likes.”

Even sighs, rubs his hand down his face, then says, “Fine. But I get to choose the music.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but gets up nevertheless.

“I’ll be back in fifteen. I’ll get the alcohol.”

“Okay.”

Isak leaves Even’s bedroom door open as he heads back up to his room. When the elevator door opens and he stands in front of his apartment, he tries to open it. Locked.

His keys are on Even’s coffee table.

He grumpily turns on his heel and heads all the way back downstairs. He doesn’t bother to knock; just pushes open the door and catches Even, half-naked, in the middle of a conversation where he sounds absolutely desperate. There's a tattoo on his left shoulder that Isak has never seen.

“ _Han sa ‘Drit og dra’, Elias! Jeg er så dum! Hva burde jeg gjøre? Hjelp meg!” (He said "go fuck yourself", Elias. I'm so dumb. What should I do? Help me!)_

If Isak hadn’t taken several years of Norwegian in school, he’d have never known what Even’s saying. If he hadn’t spent months and weeks and years listening to his professor drone on about profanity, he’d be completely ignorant.

Fortunately, he had.

Isak pulls the pen out of his back pocket, watches Even’s back, catches the dark sketches spotting his long pale legs, the hands inked on his shoulder, and the faded rings around his arm, and swallows roughly. Presses the pen to his skin and writes on his palm.

 **Du er ikke fransk** , he writes. **Du er en** **_løgner!_** **Du er norsk!**

 _“Vente,”_ he says, looks down at his hands and mutters, “Shit. _Han vet!” (Wait. Shit. He knows.)_

He turns, his silhouette tall and willowy in the fading sunlight, and stares at Isak. The orange walls make him look like a flame, bright and waiting to burn Isak’s hand as he reaches for it.

“Since when do you speak Norwegian?”

“Since when do you pathologically lie?”

Isak raises his eyes and challenges him; he’s so angry he’s burning up with it. How _dare_ he lie to Isak for seven fucking years! How dare he keep this _secret_ from him.

How dare he ignore Isak and interact with him in real life and crush his dreams and _lie_ about being French and then nearly fuck him in a club while Isak had no idea it was something more. It could've been something great and beautiful, but Even ruined it. 

Fuck Even for all of the pain and anxiety he’s caused Isak to feel for literal fucking years. Fuck him. Fuck that. Fuck _this._

“Isak, _please—”_

“I should’ve _known_ ,” Isak says with a self-deprecating smile. “French? Fuck, I’m an idiot! I actually thought you were my friend _._ I actually thought I might have a chance with having a normal future! I'm so fucking _stupid!”_

“You aren't stupid—”

“Obviously you think I am or you'd have told me the truth from the beginning! How long before you wrote me did you know, huh? How long?”

Even looks dejected when he responds with, “I've known since the moment we met. You had...there was a star on the back of your hand. It was also on mine.”

“Fuck you! Go fuck yourself! I don't ever want to see you again!”

Isak turns and storms out of Even’s apartment, grabbing his keys as he stomps out. When the door slams closed behind him, he starts to cry. By the time the elevator doors shut, he's sobbing as he smacks the button to go upstairs over and over until the door opens again. 

He can't believe Even would do that to him. Would purposely hurt him so badly. Would hide something so _gigantic._

Elias knows, obviously, so who else? Yousef? Sana? _Jonas?_

Isak manages to make it to his room where he locks the door before he loses his shit. He knocks a row of smelly candles off the coffee table just because he knows Even loves them; he rips a book on bipolar apart page by page until it's shredded. He destroys everything Even’s ever given him and it feels so good but also so terrible, like he's only hurting himself, but he doesn't stop. Likes the pain too much.

He picks of a vase of flowers Even bought Isak two weeks ago because “if you're soulmate won't, I will” and throws it at the wall so hard that the glass shatters and water splashes for feet in all directions. He screams at the top of his lungs when he kicks Even’s favorite pillow across the room and out into the hall. He takes Even’s favorite mug and smashes it into pieces so small the ‘World’s Most Okay Person’ print is illegible.

He's sobbing the entire time, screaming unintelligible curse words as he destroys his apartment because pieces of Even are _everywhere._  Is there anything in Isak’s life untouched by Even’s lies?

Isak sits down in the rubble, surrounded by paper and broken glass, and buries his head in his hands. How can anything happen between them now? 

Isak calls Jonas and waits until he answers to shout at him, his voice raw and aching.

“Did you know?” is all he says at first. “Did you know Even is my…?”

Jonas sighs into the receiver, “Yeah, sorta.”

Fuck Even and fuck _anyone_ who knew.

“Why didn't you fucking _tell_ me?!”

“He asked me not to. Also...I haven't known for that long.”

Isak hangs up in his face. He always has trouble maintaining anger at Jonas and he can't deal with guilt for feeling angry right now.

He calls Magnus next.

“Did you know? Mags, did you know that Even’s been lying to me for 7 years?”

“No!” Magnus says wildly. “What's he been lying about?”

“He's my fucking soulmate!”

“No fucking way."

“Yes! I heard him talking to Elias about it and then I wrote on myself and it showed up on him and he fucking _knew!_ He knew it and lied and said he was a Frenchman named Harry and lived in Lille instead of saying he was Norwegian and lived in New York and was my best fucking friend!”

“I can’t _believe_ this!” Magnus sounds awed, not angry, so Isak ends the call.

At least he says goodbye, though.

He calls Mahdi next and is relieved to find out he hadn't known. Hadn't kept this secret from Isak like the others had.

After he hangs up, his phone rings and the caller ID says Elias, so he denies it. Mikael calls, Isak denies it. Yousef, Sana, and Jonas do, too, but he denies their calls, too. 

He doesn't want to talk to anyone else. He sort of just wants to continue screaming and breaking things.

Instead, he watches Even scribble rapid words on his skin. Words of apology, or regret, of despair and longing and pain.

Isak can't bear looking at his skin anymore so he gets up and takes two sleeping pills. He collapses in his bed and, if he cries a little, it's no one's business but his own.

-

When Isak wakes, he's still 25. He's still single. However, now he knows his soulmate like his soulmate’s known him.

He lifts his arm and sees scribbles and I’m sorry-s, but ignores them. Checks his phone and looks at all the texts and ignores those, too.

He scrambles for the pen on his nightstand and writes **how could you?** in the space between his fingers.

Even’s response is on his palm and his wrist and makes Isak feel worse.

**I'm sorry: it just got out of hand.**

**Don't make fucking puns at me right now,** is what Isak says back.

 **Sorry. But you've to** **_hand_ ** **it to me; it was a good joke.**

**Go fuck yourself.**

**Isak, please.**

Isak throws the pen away from himself and sighs at the ceiling. He reaches for his phone and calls Eva, prays she hadn't known because he really needs to talk to someone who might understand.

“I didn't know, I swear,” Is what she leads with. “No one fuckin’ tells me anything and I swear on my life I didn't know.”

“Can I come over?”

-

When Isak is sprawled on Eva’s bed with a bottle of beer, he just starts to talk. He tells Eva about the lies, the pain, about the time they very nearly fucked in the club. He tells her everything and when he's done, he’s not crying. He's not.

Eva lets him lay across her lap and runs her fingers through his hair. Somehow it makes him feel a little better.

“Wow,” is what she says. “I mean...I sorta knew you guys had a...had feelings for each other, but I didn't think anything of it. Even told me last year he was ‘in love’ with his soulmate and I knew you were at least talking to yours...but holy shit. You guys are _soulmates.”_

“Yeah.”

“I keep...trying to think of what I’d do if I found out that, like, Noora or Vilde shared that sort of connection with me after specifically telling me they didn't...and I don't know...I’d be pissed, I think. Maybe I'd be so mad I'd take the pill.”

‘The pill’ is something some jealous guy invented a couple decades ago that severs the connection between two people and their skin. Whatever the connection is, it breaks it. Supposedly, the pain is unfathomable, but that might be a lie Isak’s mom told him because she believes taking it is against God’s plans, like an abortion or something.

“I trashed all of his things that were in my house,” Isak says and sits up a bit to drink his beer. “Smashed the vase he bought me. His pillow is in the fucking hallway.”

“I'd have done the same thing.”

“Elias knew. Jonas and Yousef, too.”

“Mutta and Adam didn't; I asked him. None of the girls did...except for Sana. She said she just didn't want to get involved.”

“I don't...” Isak pauses to sigh. “I don't _hate_ them for not saying anything. I don't even really blame them because it wasn't their story to tell, but I'm just so angry that no one even fucking hinted at me. No one purposely drew something on my forehead so it might appear on Even’s. No one even _tried.”_

“I could draw a dick on you if you want,” Eva says and steals his beer. “Let Even go to work with _that_ scribbled onto his skin.”

Isak tries to imagine Even walking into a room full of teenagers with a dick next to his mouth and almost laughs.

“Yeah, but then _I'd_ have to go to the hospital with a dick on my face.”

He has a shift in, like, 12 hours.

“Yeah, but I'd cover it with concealer for you so no one would see it.”

“I don't think that would work. I do a lot of running; what if I sweat it off?”

“Oh, it's costume makeup. This shit doesn't come off.”

“I think I'm good,” Isak laughs. “Thanks, though.”

“You're no fun,” she sighs and flops backwards onto her pillows. “When did we get so old?”

“You're 25, not 90.”

“I just feel so young inside and no one ever wants to do anything young anymore. It's all work and no play.”

“You never cease to understand me,” Isak says, staring up at her ceiling. “What am I gonna do?”

“Well, when you get out of the ER on Friday, we’re going to gather our friends and then we’re going out. It's the weekend and there's no school, no hospital, no work. We’re all gonna dress up and preen like peacocks and maybe you'll get laid and find someone who doesn't care about the boy on the opposite side of your skin. Maybe I'll finally get a scribble. Maybe we will rule the fucking world.”

-

Isak can't tell Even not to come out with them; he can't.

They're just as much his friends as they are Isak’s and it would be unfair.

It doesn't stop him from hoping, though.

When he meets Eva and Noora at their apartment, they look hot as fuck. Isak feels as good as they look because he's wearing new jeans and a shirt that Old Isak would’ve died in. It's loose and low and bright and flows when he moves.

He feels like fire in it.

“Damn,” Eva says and then whistles a little. “Someone's gonna fuck you hard tonight.”

Isak sighs softly and says, “I hope so.”

Chris shows up next with a bowl of cereal in her hands and then Mutta and Adam do.

Fortunately, no backstabbers have shown up yet, so the air is light and friendly and excited. They're all ready for a break.

“I hope they play that Tyler song. You know the one off his latest album? It's not very popular but it's so damn good—”

“Elias!” Vilde shouts as the door creeps open.

Isak doesn't even turn to look, just crosses his arms and shares a look with Eva.

Mikael is with him even though everyone knows he doesn't drink. Isak wishes he had that sort of dedication to something. To anything.

“Who's ready to let loose? It's been too long!”

“Even coming?”

“Yeah,” Elias says awkwardly. “He's running a bit late. Said he had to shower. But he should be here soon.”

Isak’s glad Even plans on getting rid of the graffiti he's covered Isak’s body with. It's all over him.

Isak looks down at the I’m sorry written on his index finger and swallows hard as the ink begins to melt away.

He looks up at his friends and sighs.

“Are we waiting on anyone else?” Isak asks.

“Sana and Yousef aren't coming,” Mikael says. “Date night.”

Isak nods and looks back down, watches the ink on his knees melt away through the rips in his jeans. This sadness in his chest might just swallow him whole.

The only person in the universe for whom he was made doesn't want him. Lied to hide from him.

Isak isn't worth shit. He's nothing. Why does he even try?

He carefully pulls the pen out of Noora’s journal and scribbles a word across his knuckles.

**P A I N**

-

When Even joins the group, he looks good. Isak hates that he notices, but he can't help it.

Even’s always the most beautiful person in every room, even when he’s the ugliest.

“Isak—” he tries to say, but Isak shakes his head.

He just shakes his head and looks at him and frowns, lets his hands fall to his sides. He can't even bear hearing his voice right now.

Isak walks away from him to catch up to Vilde, Mutta, and Chris. He just wants to get drunk and fuck a cute guy; is that too much to ask?

Isak looks down at his knuckles, at the letters sketched onto his skin, and wonders if Even’s even seen them yet.

He glances back at him, at the sharp edge of his smile, and feels his stomach turn.

He never deserved Even anyway.

Vilde touches Isak’s elbow to draw him into the conversation and he's so glad. He needs a distraction, even if it's in the form of blue eyes, a short skirt, and a ditsy laugh.

“We are going to have so much fun!” she says as they climb into their Uber.

Thankfully all of the traitors are in a different one.

“I wanna get laid tonight!” she shouts as their driver begins to go, snorting quietly under their breath.

“Same,” Isak sighs.

“Me, too,” Chris adds.

“Me, three,” Mutta laughs from the front seat. “We all need to get some tonight! Throw caution to the sky, as the Americans say!”

“No one says that,” Isak wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah, it's caution to the wind.”

“What does ‘the wind’ mean? I can't remember.”

Vilde struggles to explain it, so Isak sighs and says, “It's _vinden_ in Norwegian.”

Mutta turns and gapes at him and Isak realizes no one ever fucking listens to him. He's only been studying Norwegian for almost 5 years! How has literally no one noticed?

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I only took Norwegian all throughout college,” Isak sighs. “No big deal.”

“How didn't anyone notice?”

“I, for one, totally knew he did,” Chris says with a snort. “Sometimes when you guys are bitching in Norwegian, Isak tries really hard not to laugh, so it's easy enough to recognize that he does, in fact, actually understand what you're saying.”

“You've heard Even lamenting about you then?” Mutta asks. “He does it all the time. Sometimes, he leans over and just says into Elias’ ear, ‘Fy fæn!’ about those tight jeans you sometimes wear.”

“I...no. I assumed he was talking about something else…”

“‘Oh, _Mutta,_ he is so cute and so short and so _hot!_ How do I approach him? How can I get him to like me? Woe is me! He will never love me!’”

“Sounds fake,” Vilde adds, being unhelpful. “But okay. Sure.”

“He laments for hours sometimes! I don't know how Elias puts up with it! He drives me nuts sometimes.”

Isak looks away and down at his knuckles. On his left hand, four letters are written onto his skin.

When he lines up his hands, the letters form a word.

 **P A I N** **L E S S**

-

The club is wild when they arrive. The bouncer at the door only lets them skip the long ass line because Magnus apparently knows the owner, which is ridiculous.

How did Magnus, a fucking gym teacher, make friends with a multimillionaire?

The music is loud and booming and the people are dancing in their own synchronicity. Nothing is perfect and that's why it's so great.

Isak heads to the bar immediately and manages to find a chair. He needs to adjust to the noise level before he can do anything; his hearing thing disorients him when really loud music is playing.

Within two minutes of sitting down and pressing the dial on his hearing aid, there's a martini in front of him and a cute boy down the bar with a beautiful and perfect wink.

He's golden and shining and so definitively not Even that Isak thinks that might be it.

He might end up actually for real getting laid tonight.

The man approaches him, skin shining under the flashing lights, and slides into Isak’s personal space. Under the alcohol, Isak can smell cologne and deodorant. Old Spice.

“Don't be sad,” he says and he must've picked up on Isak’s frustrated frown. “This party is a living breathing thing and sadness will kill it like a disease!”

Isak decides this guy is either drunk off his ass or high as hell.

“I'm Devon,” he says and his words are a little sloppy underneath his accent.

“Isak.”

“You're beautiful,” he says and maybe, Isak decides, he's both drunk _and_ high.

Isak wishes he was this guy.

“Who's that guy?” He asks suddenly, squinting over Isak’s shoulder. “Do you know him?”

Isak turns, feels Devon’s hand high on his knee, and spots Even glaring from a spot in the crowd. Isak purses his lips and turns back around.

“Sorta.”

“He your boyfriend?”

“Not at all.”

“Soulmate?”

“Maybe.”

“If I wasn't drunk,” Devon says loudly, “I'd kiss you.”

“I'd kiss you, too.”

“Cool,” he says and kisses Isak on the cheek, sloppy and drunk. “I'll see you around, Isak.”

“Be safe, Devon.”

When Isak turns back around and downs his martini in one go, Even’s still there, still unmoving in the crowd, eyes still locked onto Isak.

Isak raises his eyebrows in a challenge and heads off into the crowd. He'll find someone sober enough to dance with him; he has to.

A short boy with electric eyes grabs his hand only seconds later, twirls him so he’s staring right at him. Isak follows his movements, lets him lead. His hands are soft and smooth when he presses them against Isak’s skin, but his lips are rough as he kisses Isak like he's dying. Like this is the last thing he'll ever do before he kicks the bucket.

Isak grips his shirt in his fists and pulls, drags him closer so he can kiss him equally as hard. Fuck, it's been too long.

This man, this green-eyed artist, is so good at what he's doing that Isak gets lost in his hands, his lips, his skin. He can't do anything but melt into this stranger's touch, tilt his head back so the man can kiss down his neck, lift his knee so he can grind down on it.

Isak is so lost that the man’s question goes right past his ears several times; he just doesn't hear it. When he finally does, the question is more a pant that a sentence. More a moan than a whisper. Thankfully it's in his left ear. 

“The blond man, do you know him?”

“Yes.”

“You want to make him jealous, no?”

“I do.”

“Come home with me,” the stranger whispers and shifts their positions so he can reach down and caress the front of Isak’s jeans, presses his palm around the outline of his dick.

“Bathroom?”

Classless. Isak has no shame and no class. Plus, he knows nothing about the man in front of him besides how good he kisses, how bright his eyes are; how can he go home with him?

“Yes.”

Isak looks over his shoulder, makes eye contact with Even, and winks. At least _he_ can do it right.

The stranger drags him toward the bathroom and tells him his name. Julian. Isak tells him his.

When the door is locked, Julian pushes Isak against it and kisses him again, hands already unbuckling his pants.

Isak’s not much for one night stands, but goddamn. He might have to do this again.

Julian pulls his pants down and then sucks him off right there. Lets Isak pull and tug on his hair and then, when Isak warns him, he makes Isak cum on his face. Says he likes it, which, all in all, isn't the weirdest thing Isak’s ever done with a guy.

Isak rests for a second, lets the feeling go back into his fingers, and then brings Julian up to kiss him.

“Doesn't it bother you? The taste of your dick in my mouth?”

Isak wrinkles his nose, but shakes his head. Julian is absolutely filthy.

“Good.”

Isak flips them around, his pants still down around his ankles, and stuffs his hand down Julian’s pants. He kisses him with fervor, bites a mark onto his collarbone, and then falls to his knees.

He has to return the favor, after all.

Isak sucks him off in a dirty bathroom with his bare knees on the floor, lets a stranger cum on his face even though he’s never really been a fan of that. When they're done and their pants are back up, they share a kiss and Isak gives Julian his number.

When they exit the bathroom, Julian says they should definitely do this again and then they head their separate ways.

Isak walks through the club, feeling much better, and finds Eva dancing drunkenly with Vilde and Chris. When he checks his phone, he realizes it's 2 AM already. Time flies.

“Isak!” Eva shouts when she sees him. “I saw you with that guy! Did you have sex?!”

Isak laughs a little and shrugs, “Something like that.”

When Isak looks up into the crowd, Even once again isn't far away. This time, though, he doesn't looks crestfallen or sad.

He looks angry.

-

Isak dances with his friends— Eva, Noora, Vilde, Chris, and Mutta— for a good while until he's so exhausted he can barely stand. When he reaches out to catch his balance against a stranger's shoulder, he sees scribbles on his hands. All over them. He can barely see his skin through the pattern of colors.

He turns to his friends and they look ready to go; Eva is a drunken mess dangling all over Noora and Vilde is lamenting about the inequality in CEO positions as Chris nods patiently, more interested in the liquid in her glass. Mutta is still dancing, but Isak grabs him and leads his group out of the club and onto the street.

When he checks his phone to order the Uber, he realizes it's 4:30 in the fucking morning. He wonders where the rest of his friends are, if they're home or still inside, and texts the group chat.

From: issy at 4:39am

I've got Chris, Vilde, Eva, Noora, and Mutta.

We're heading out if anyone wants to join.

Uber’s ten minutes out.

From: elly ass at 4:51am

We left an hour ago.

But Even stayed. Could you bring him back?

From: issy at 4:53am

:/

* * *

 

From: yakisak at 4:55am

Get outside or we'll leave without you.

From: bechneven at 4:56am

Make me.

From: yakisak at 4:56am

Fine. Bye, bitch.

* * *

 

Isak sighs, presses his ink covered fingers into the bridge of his nose, and heads back inside. Luckily, the bouncer seems to remember him, so he allows him past.

The party is still going strong, though the crowd has thinned a little. Isak spots Even, inches taller than most, leaning against the bar with a glass in his hand.

Isak rushes over to him, agitated, and touches his shoulder. Even turns, eyes looking him over, and smirks. Knocks back the rest of his drink.

“Let’s go.”

“I'm sorry,” Even says abruptly. “I...I...I knew it was too good to be true...so I lied. I told you I was French.  I said my name wasn't what it is.”

“Harry,” Isak says sharply. “You said _Harry.”_

“I did.”

Isak rolls his eyes and nods toward the door; he doesn't want to hear anymore of this bullshit.

“Come on. We're gonna miss the Uber.”

“Isak, _please,”_ Even says as he grips Isak’s hand firmly between his own. “I know I fucked up. Especially...after the club thing. Pre-Sonja.”

 _“‘The club thing’?_ That was _nothing_ _!_ We were nothing and then almost something, but you started dating Sonja. You ran out and got with a girl you knew would never leave you because there’s no one on the opposite side of her skin! You ruined what we could have had, Even, not me, so don't put this on me like it's my fault I won't forgive you,” Isak says cruelly.

He wants to hurt Even like he hurt him. Wants him to think _betrayal_ when he hears _soulmate._ Wants his heart to ache whenever Isak’s even so much as mentioned.

“It was just a hook-up and it meant _nothing,_ Even, now come _on!”_

The expression on his face melts off, becomes so broken that Isak has to look away, can't bear looking at him any longer.

“Let's go.”

Even lets Isak lead him out of the club and to their friends. Fortunately, their Uber driver still hasn't arrived.

“What happened?” Eva asks with wide eyes. “He looks…”

“Broken,” Vilde asks, somehow maintaining her title as the most unhelpful person Isak knows, even when drunk.

“Yes, well, I told him he meant nothing to me.”

“What?” Mutta says suddenly, looking at him wide-eyed. “How could you do that? You just broke his heart!”

Isak looks into Mutta’s eyes and, as the car pulls up to the curb, _“Pent ansikt, grusomt og knust hjerte.” (Pretty face, cruel and broken heart.)_

He turns and climbs into the driver’s seat. Their driver, an old man wearing a green Polo, greets him with a smile and a hello. Asks him if he had a good night.

“I did,” Isak answers softly, staring out the windshield as his friends pile in, “up until about fifteen minutes ago.”

-

Isak is still 25 when his best friends wake him up too early. He's hungover and tired and nearly pukes on Mahdi’s shoes when he mentions breakfast.

After getting dressed, he checks the time. 10 AM. What kind of bullshit life is he living where, on his first weekend off in _months,_ his friends have him up at 10?

He can barely speak until he has a cup of coffee in front of him at a restaurant in the city somewhere, barely opens his eyes until the bitter taste is in his mouth.

“So,” Jonas says as Isak drinks, “we've come to make amends.”

“No need,” Isak responds.

Mahdi and Magnus didn't know and Isak isn't mad at Jonas anymore, can never be for very long.

“Not...just us.”

Suddenly the chair to Isak’s left is pulled out and Elias drops into it. He looks really awake for someone who was up until at least 4.

“Hey, man,” he says.

“Elias.”

Isak would be appalled that his friends had set him up for an ambush if he were more awake.

“I came to apologize. It wasn't my place to say anything and I seriously honestly thought he was gonna tell you after the club thing—”

“‘The club thing’?” Magnus asks, interrupting.

“—so I came to say I'm sorry that I didn't say anything.”

“It’s...it’s okay, Elias. I understand. He’s your best friend and he asked you to keep a secret for him.”

“Yeah. I wish he hadn't involved me at all, truthfully. You know I don't like that shit.”

Elias doesn't believe that skin can define a relationship, that two people who might never otherwise meet could be destined for one another just because ink can connect them. He doesn't believe that that's possible, which is a perfectly rational deduction.

Isak wishes that he himself was anything close to rational.

“I know, man.”

“Now...there’s sort of another conversation we need to have.”

“About what I said last night?”

Isak already knows he's about to be reamed out. He never should have yelled at Even like that, but Even never should have _lied_ to Isak at all. That's not something a friend should lie about to another friend.

“Yeah. He won't get out of bed.”

“It's 10 in the morning; who wants to be up?”

“You broke his heart. You confirmed his biggest fear.”

“Which is?” Magnus is more invested in this conversation than Isak is.

Elias glares at Magnus for a second before looking back at Isak.

“That he isn't good enough for you. That you...don't want someone as terrible as he is. As undesirable.”

“That's ridiculous,” Isak scoffs. “I basically fucked him in that club and, up until two days ago, I’d have done it again! I'd probably have married him if he asked. Instead he lied to me, hid it from me, because he doesn't want _me.”_

“Now _that's_ ridiculous,” Jonas snaps. “You guys are so fucking stupid.”

“He lied to me for 7 fucking years! There were so many opportunities to tell me! He could've written it on the skin we fucking share and, yeah, I would've been mad, but I wouldn't have been heartbroken like I am now!”

The chair to Isak’s right scrapes the ground as Mikael slips into it, looking as tired as Isak feels.

“ _Hvorfor er de begge så dumme? Fy faen.”_

 _“Jeg er ikke dum,”_ Isak snaps back. _“Drittsekk.”_

“Woah,” Elias says. “How did you…?”

“You guys are _idiots!_ All of you! How did any of you graduate high school let alone college?”

“Jesus,” Mahdi says sharply. “Calm down, Isak.”

“None of you ever pay attention to me at _all!_ I studied Norwegian pretty much my entire way through college and none of you ever noticed.”

Isak sighs suddenly, agitated, and drinks the rest of his coffee in one gulp. It burns, but he feels better. More awake. He still needs some Advil, though.

“I'm going home. Here's five bucks for the coffee.”

He tosses the money onto the table and turns around to leave. His friends say nothing, just watch him walk away because they know it's true. Everyone takes him for granted.

What did he do to deserve people who pretend to care about him? Jesus fucking Christ.

When he makes it into the elevator to his apartment, he notices writing on his arm. Song lyrics.

 **If you could** **  
** **be mine, we'd both shine** **  
** **If I ruled the world** **  
** **Still living for today, in** **  
** **these last days and times**

He recognizes it as an old song from that artist Even loves. When he lifts his sleeve, he sees more.

 **Runnin my fingers through your hair it's like days can go by** **  
** **while I'm with you and I won't even care**

**The man who was just like me** **  
** **Cause I know he was hiding somewhere I can’t see** **  
** **And I’m alone** **  
** **And I realize when I get home** **  
** **That I wanna go to my red and my cherry**

Nas.

Isak pulls down his sleeve and, when the doors open, heads immediately into his apartment. When he's inside, he puts on the songs and lays on his couch.

Upon further bodily inspection, he finds a mismatching set of lyrics from a different band on his ankle. The Wombats.

 **Life was euphoric when we didn't know much** **  
** **And now I'm a ghost and you've lost your spark** **  
** **What happened, oh, what happened to us?**

How eerily fitting for their situation. Everything was easier when Isak didn't know. Maybe Even had it right to keep the secret.

It's his skin after all. Isak should've vetted his friends better, maybe. Or maybe Even’s just not looking for a soulmate, maybe he's one of those activists who fight for the right to marry someone who doesn't share their skin.

Maybe Isak shouldn't have been so quick to judge. Maybe Even should have told the truth from the minute they met. 

Isak presses play after making a playlist of the songs and a couple others and lays back. He listens to them at full volume over and over. Lets the songs lull him to sleep.

-

When he wakes, it's to his phone ringing. The sun is still up and, because he forgot to pull the shades down, the sunlight casts shadows on his face and across the floor. When he checks the time, it's late afternoon.

He stumbles off of the couch to grab his phone and answers it without looking. Anything to stop the ungodly noise.

“Isak?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you, like, let me in? I really need to talk to you while we're both sober to clear the water.”

“Air,” Isak says gently and Even snorts.

“I always fuck that one up. I don't even know why, though. It's not hard and I know the difference. Water just sounds better to me, I guess.”

“Yeah. English is weird.”

Isak lapses into an awkward silence, unsure of what to say.

He supposes they should talk. Set some rules if Even doesn't want him because, somehow, Isak’s not sure he _wants_ to take the pill. He likes feeling connected to somebody, even if it's platonic, which happens a lot. Isak would be okay with that, if it's what Even wants.

“Isak?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna let me in or…?”

Isak scoffs at himself and heads toward the door. When he opens it, Even looks as dazed as Isak feels. He also looks fucking beautiful, which sucks. Isak surely looks like shit.

“Hi.”

 _“Halla,”_ Isak says and then smiles a little.

_“Unnskyld.”_

Isak nods, understands why Even’s apologizing, but doesn't know how to respond, in _either_ language unfortunately.

“You said you wanted to talk?”

“I won’t take the pill,” Even says softly, not meeting Isak’s eye. “We can...We can work something out if you really don’t want to be so attached to me, but the pill will rip me apart. I know because Sonja told me what it did to her and she wasn’t even the one who took it.”

“I don’t want to take it either,” Isak whispers; the stories must be true.

“I’m...relieved? Glad? I don’t fucking know a word for it.”

“Yeah,” Isak sighs softly, almost sad, “glad we got that out of the way.”

“You know…” Even says gently. “The club thing...it wasn’t nothing for me.”

Isak can't honestly bear to look him the eyes when he says, “It wasn't nothing for me, either.”

“Okay, yeah, cool.”

-

Isak’s 26 the next time it comes up.

No one talks about the skin that he and Even share and it’s fine. Well, it's not fine, but Isak’s dealing with it. He's dealing with his broken heart and the agony he feels when Even scribbles something to him in French like it’s funny. Like this entire fucking thing is a fucking joke.

Isak’s a fucking mess and he isn’t sure if it’s really his friends going their separate ways or if he’s distancing himself, if he’s the one ruining the good thing they all had going on.

Isak’s 26 when he’s alone, when he spends 18 hours a day in the ER with aching feet and unseeing eyes. He’s 26 when he goes home to an empty apartment in a building full of strangers. He’s 26 when he realizes he has no one. He has nothing but a job and a bed.

Even and Sonja are still going strong, which isn't surprising; she takes great care of him in a completely selfless way Isak’s sure he could never do if he was in her place. That’s probably why they didn’t turn into anything.  

Jonas spends a month in Hong Kong translating for some really rich guy and Isak doesn't hear for him for any of it. Magnus loses himself in spring and summer and fall sports, loses himself in baseball and field hockey and football, and Isak doesn't see him for months. Mahdi gets engaged to a cute girl with wide hazel eyes that Isak’s never met and he only finds out through an Instagram post.

It's all quite sad, but Isak’s happy for them. He just wishes he could get as lost in his own life as they are in theirs.

The hospital is always interesting— the ER is _never_ boring— but Isak’s not enthralled. He's not even surprised or excited or appalled when _another_ grown ass man comes in with a fidget spinner stuck on his dick and a sheepish grin because it's just another day.

Eva and Noora are apparently in a secret relationship because, two days before Noora’s birthday, while trying to drop off a gift for her, he walks in on them having sex. He doesn't even see them until mid-summer, so he can't exactly apologize because it feels too weird.

Isak just feels stuck. He's at an impasse, a crossroads. How can he reinvest himself in his own life? In his friends?

He has no fucking idea.

Elias, Adam, Yousef, and Mutta go back to Norway for the summer, but Even stays with Mikael. Apparently they've grown a lot closer over these past few weeks— Isak only knows because of Instagram— and it's sort of driving Isak mad with jealousy.

He misses being everyone's friends. He misses feeling good and sure about himself, about his family and his friends, about his soulmate.

He misses being 24.

He's so reminiscent of the time he ruled the world that he sits at a bar and gets drunk. He gets so shitfaced it’s like he’s 21 again and he barely makes it back to his flat in one piece. His heart is pounding by the time he can figure out how the elevator works and he doesn't know why. Is he having a heart attack? Should he cough? Call 911?

When he gets inside, he collapses on his kitchen floor and stares up at the ceiling.

He thinks that maybe this is a small, miniscule piece of what Even probably deals with during episodes. He surely hopes not because this feels earth shatteringly painful. He takes out his phone and plays Even’s playlist, lets the words melt into sounds inside his ears.

Then, in a drunken fit of self-pity brought on by spending his birthday alone, he posts a string of sad poems on a black background to Snapchat and falls asleep on his kitchen floor.

* * *

**perhaps i don't deserve nice things because i'm paying for sins i don't remember**

**don't bother holding onto things that don't want you**

**how can this be a real emotion? it feels so fake, so flimsy. how am i surviving this? am i even a real person?**

**probably not.**

* * *

 

When he wakes up, he’s 27 and there's someone kissing him. There's someone pressing their hands against his ribs, too, but he's too hungover to even move to push them off. It hurts less than his head does, at least.

“Oh, my god, he isn't breathing! I can't feel his heartbeat! Jesus Christ, Mikael, call 911!”

Isak’s jaw is opened forcefully, his head is tipped back, and then someone's blowing air into his lungs. He sputters the air back out, coughs until Even lets him go.

His head throbs from a massive hangover and he opens his eyes to glare at the two boys kneeling beside him.

“What the _fuck,_ guys?”

“You're alive!” Even says, throwing his arms over Isak’s body dramatically to hold him tight. “I thought you were dead!”

“Why would I be dead?”

“We stopped by to check on you after the shit you posted on Snapchat last night.”

“What shit?”

“The emo Rupi Kaur poetry mess,” Mikael answers. “You didn't answer so we just came in and found you here.”

“I'm fine,” Isak says stiffly.

He remembers that he's angry with them for forgetting his birthday and wishes he could just push them out of his apartment without having to say a word.

Plus he needs Advil or something. His head is fucking pounding.

“Are you alright then?”

“Yeah. I'm great.”

“Okay…Wanna get lunch, then?” Mikael asks. “I have this gift certificate from McDonald’s for half off sandwiches and it expires today. You gotta pay for yourself, though, because we're all fucking broke.”

“I’m good.”

Even narrows his eyes at Isak like he knows something he surely doesn’t and pushes off the floor to stand over Isak. Mikael and Isak stand, too, feeling uncomfortably short.

“What’s up with you?” Even asks. “You’re acting all pissy.”

“I’m hungover and I just woke up to someone giving me mouth to mouth. I think I certainly have a right to be pissy.”

“Do you have work tonight?”

“No,” Isak sighs and shuffles through his medicine cabinet until he finds pain killers, “I have a shift tomorrow morning, though. 6 AM.”

“Alright, well, we’ll leave you to sleep off your hangover, then.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Isak has to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from doing something impulsive and reckless. He’s 27 now and he has to grow the fuck up.

Isak sees them out, fake smiles until the door closes behind them and Isak can kick his foot into his shoe rack in frustration.

He groans heartily and returns to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee and to take some goddamn Tylenol. Afterwards, he takes his coffee and a handful of cookies to bed where he lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling. He can be as immature as he wants when he’s alone.

He can’t believe his friends forgot his birthday. It’s not even hard to remember, but it’s like they don’t care to. Can’t be bothered to worry about Isak like Isak used to worry about them.

He inevitably falls asleep, coffee half drank on his bedside table, his fist full of crushed sugar cookie crumbs.

-

Isak is left to suffer in his silence for another week before his friends show up again. Magnus is sprawled across Isak’s sofa when he opens the door after an exhausting 12 hour shift.

He’d had to do so much shit this shift that it felt like days, so he’s in no mood for his friends’ shenanigans. He just wants to shower, shove a sandwich in his mouth, and fall into his bed and not wake up for a couple days. Thankfully, he’s off for a long weekend.

“Isak!” Magnus shouts as he opens his door. “How are you, man?”

“Tired,” Isak sighs. “You?”

“I’m good. My football team has won every game they’ve played this season!”

“Congrats, Mags.”

Isak can hear water running in the bathroom, so he assumes Magnus isn’t alone; he sighs again.

Lo and behold, Jonas comes out and smiles at Isak like he hadn’t forgotten Isak’s existence. Isak doesn’t smile back.

“Long time, no see,” Jonas says softly. “How was work?”

“Shitty. Another 12 hour day, another dumbass putting their dick somewhere it didn’t belong.”

Isak doesn’t understand the people who shove their dicks into places where dicks should never ever go; why would anyone want to fuck a mailbox? A bottle? A metal pipe?

Morons.

“Sounds rough...Wanna go out to let some steam off? Girls are all off tomorrow, so they’re coming, too. Norwegians are coming home tonight, as well.”

Isak doesn’t even have to think about it.

“No.”

“What?” Magnus objects, looking upset. “You have to! Who else am I gonna drunkenly dance with when I get turned down by all the girls in the club?”

“Get someone else. I’m fucking exhausted.”

He’s not trying to be a dick, but they aren’t listening to him.

“I just spent 12 hours on my feet with two tiny 2 minute breaks to piss and I won’t go out when I can barely stand as is. My feet’ll fuckin’ _bleed.”_

“Come on, Isak, please!”

“I don’t want to go get drunk with any of you! I just want to go to bed.”

“Then don’t drink. You can just dance and hang out and I’ll buy—”

“Magnus!” Isak says sharply, irritated. _“No!”_

“You’re such a fucking buzzkill. A little old lady. No, even old ladies like hanging with their friends!”

Isak narrows his eyes at him and scoffs, “Friends? You guys aren’t my friends. None of you.”

“What?” Jonas looks hurt and Isak has to look away.

Fucking Jonas. Isak wishes he could be really angry with him, but he’s mostly just hurt.

“Friends don’t—” Isak stops himself, takes a deep breath. “You know what? Nevermind. Just go.”

“No, go on,” Magnus is looking at him with laughter in his eyes. “What were you gonna say, pussy?”

 _“‘Pussy’?”_ Isak is appalled. “You’re supposed to be a _teacher!”_

“Not on Friday nights I’m not. Now finish your sentence. Friends don’t what?”

“Please just get out!”

“Mags, maybe we should—”

“No, I want to hear what he was going to say! Friends don’t what?”

“Friends don’t forget other friends’ birthdays. Friends don’t not even send a text to their friends on the day of their birth!”

“Wait, what?” Magnus blinks up at him. “Your birthday?”

“Was last week. I sat here and got drunk all alone while no one visited me. No one even texted. I woke up to Even and Mikael thinking I was dead and I sorta wish I had been.”

Isak shares a moment of intense eye contact with Jonas before he ducks away and runs toward the bathroom.

“You both need to go,” he says, standing in the doorway. “Don’t be here when I come out.”

Isak goes inside and locks the door. When he’s done showering, they’re gone. He’s alone once again.

-

Isak wakes up to writing on the back of his hand. It’s midday, probably just after 3 PM, but his sleep schedule is so fucked up already that he can’t bring himself to care.

When he goes to rub his eyes, he notices it.

**Why didn’t you tell anyone, _kjæreste?_ **

**I’m not your boyfriend and I shouldn’t have to.**

**No one’s perfect, Isak. You can’t expect us to remember everything.**

**I always remember everyone else’s birthdays! _Always!_ You guys only talk to me when it benefits you. “Oh, Isak, come out to drink with us so you can be the sober-ish friend and make sure we all get home safe! Oh, Isak, let’s go to lunch because I have a coupon, but, like, you’re gonna have to pay for us! Isak, let’s go to the movies! You can pay for me, right?” I’m fuckin sick of this shit, Even. It hurts that none of you fucking care. I hadn’t spoken to any of my friends in over a month before you woke me up on the day after my birthday because you thought I was _dead._ **

**Isak, you know that’s not true!**

**If you don’t mind, can you leave me alone? I can’t hang up on you or kick you out.**

**No. We have to talk abt this**

**Now you want to talk? It’s been weeks, Even, since we held a conversation and months since it didn’t consist of a hello, a how are you,  and then a goodbye. I’m just tired. Too tired for this. Bye.**

Isak throws his pen onto his bed and buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore.

He just needs a distraction right now, he decides, so he grabs his phone and texts Julian. They’ve been texting since that night forever ago in the club and hang up platonically sometimes when they’re both free.

* * *

 

From: isak<# at 3:38 PM

You free tonight?

We should go out

From: juli-en at 3:39 PM

I’m off at 8. Meet me at my place at 9?

From: isak<# at 3:39 PM

9? There’s no need to dress up for me

I’ve already seen you at your worst and you were still beautiful

From: juli-en at 3:41 PM

Don’t say things like that if you don’t intend on acting on them.

From: isak<# at 3:41 PM

I absolutely 100% intend on acting on them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a third chapter fyi so this is the second to last. Hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> Also turkey hill is a gas station sorta like 7-11 or Wawa or Sheetz. I'm from the east coast so I can't really give you anymore synonyms lol.

 

Isak leaves his flat and, when he gets to Julian’s, he doesn't leave. He spends a long while just sitting with Julian on his slightly dirty couch, staring into his strange green eyes, and talking about the stars. 

Somehow they end up curved around each other like quotation marks as they talk, as they lament about the earth and the universe and the infinite number of fraternal twins it might have. It's the most scintillating conversation Isak has had in a long time. 

When the silence extends for a while, Isak turns his head and catches Julian staring at him with gentle eyes.

“You know,” he whispers, his voice so soft Isak nearly misses it, “you're the most beautiful person I know.” 

Isak smiles and stares back, “Oh, yeah? What about...Theo James?” 

Isak hates attention like that and the only way he knows how to deal with it is by deflection. 

“Who's that?” 

“Some British actor guy who played in a cop procedural a couple years back. He's pretty gorgeous. Tall. Tan. Smolder-y. Plus he's British, so you know, accent.” 

“You know what accent is my favorite?” Julian turns his head so he can stare up at the ceiling. “Irish. Like...like Saoirse Ronan.” 

“I love her,” Isak admits, a little embarrassed. “My favorite actress by far.” 

“Me, too.” 

The light of the lamp beside Julian’s bed shines behind him, giving him a halo or delicate yellow light, and he looks so gorgeous, so perfect, that Isak can't believe it. When he turns his head and the light casts shadows across his face, Isak leans in to kiss him softly. It's hardly anything at all, but it helps Isak realize that this is the exact opposite of the unhealthy and toxic relationships he has with his friends. Julian cares what Isak's saying. He's understands. He listens. 

Isak truly cares about Julian says. He tries his best to understand and he listens. He could listen to Julian talk for days because he has the perfect storytelling voice. 

“We should go out sometime,” Isak says against the skin of his cheek. “Get dinner. Sit and look at the sky. Fuck underneath the stars.” 

Julian grins back, his cheeks dimpling, and says, “I'd really like that,” before leaning in to kiss Isak firmer. 

-

The clock reads 04:29 AM when Isak gives in to the drowsiness. He and Julian were up all night just talking, just kissing, just looking at each other. Julian is somehow still awake, face inches from Isak’s on the same pillow, when he pulls out a marker as Isak’s eyes begin to shut. He can't even bring himself to try to keep them open anymore. 

Isak's only half awake, half coherent, so he lets Julian scribble words in the crook of his neck, his fingers pressing in gently as he writes. 

“Hope you don't mind,” Julian says softly, kissing him between his eyebrows. 

Isak’s too tired to say that he honestly doesn't give a shit what he writes on his skin. Not anymore. 

-

When Isak wakes, the first thing he notices is the taste of ink in his mouth. It's a familiar taste, a strange side effect from the bond he and Even have weirdly only shared since they found out their true identities. It's sharp and bitter and means Even's left Isak something written in ink.

Isak takes a moment to orient himself before waking up completely. He has to remember whose bed he’s in. Has to remember whose body his arms are wrapped around. 

“Julian,” he whispers softly, looking down at his closed eyes. “Julian.” 

“Isak,” he says back, eyes still shut, smiling softly at the wall. 

Isak grins a little, leans over to kiss his temple and his cheekbone and his jaw. 

“Want breakfast?” Isak asks because he's starving. “I'll cook.” 

Julian turns finally and smiles, cracks his eyes open so he’s staring into Isak’s eyes. 

“You go. I'll stay here.” 

Isak kisses him softly and gets up, and heads to the bathroom. 

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and gasps as he reaches for the mouthwash to rinse the ink taste out of his mouth. There's ink all over his neck in a solid block of black. 

“What the fuck?” He pokes at it and tries to wipe it off,but has no luck. 

Even did it. 

Isak presses his lips together harshly and sighs. Maybe the pill wouldn't be so bad after all.  At least Isak wouldn't have to wake up to surprise tattoos all over his body anymore. That might be a relief, actually.

Isak finds a marker in Julian’s medicine cabinet and writes a note to Even in the back of his hand. 

**What's up with the graffiti on my neck?**

**I was covering what you wrote.**

**I didn't write anything??**

**Someone did.**

It's then that Isak remembers Julian’s hands on Isak’s neck as a felt-tipped pen left marks on his skin. 

**What did he write?**

**I don't want to say.**

**Even, I can just ask him, you know**

**You're still there?**

**Yes**

**“Are you jealous that the boy you share skin with is sharing his bed with someone else?”**

Isak presses his together to repress the smile; Julian is ridiculous. 

**So were you?** Isak asks. 

**Yes.**

Isak scoffs a little and scrubs off his half of the conversation. That's just an asshole-ish thing to admit when he has a fucking girlfriend. Whatever. Fuck them both. 

Isak rinses his mouth with mouthwash, pisses, washes his hands, and goes to make breakfast. Burnt cinnamon rolls and tea. 

-

Isak goes to see his mother a couple days later, after he's finished his Wednesday night shift. He takes the sticker with the word ‘visitor’ on it from the guy at the front desk and places it on the lapel of his jacket as a nurse leads him inside. 

There she is, his mother, looking as frail as ever, smiling brightly up at him. He smiles back. 

It's been too long. 

He usually goes to see her every couple months, but this stretch has been almost a year. He can't bring himself to feel bad, though, because he hasn't the energy.

“Isak!” She says brightly and stands to hug him. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“Happy birthday, my beautiful boy,” she says softly and reaches out to hold his face between her hands. “You're completely grown now and I am so happy that I've gotten to see you.” 

Isak’s mom is so selfless, so pure and kind, that he tears up a little. She's the most generous person Isak knows and he can't even fucking visit her regularly. She remembers his birthday, listens to his shit, and asks for nothing in return except the company of her only son. 

He wants to get her the fuck out of this asylum. He wonders if she'd want to. 

He hopes she doesn't notice the tears in his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he smiles at her, grins really, and touches her hand. “You're...you're the only one who remembered.” 

“Not even your soulmate?” 

“No. Not even him.” 

“Well,” she leads him toward the table in the corner of the room where they settle down in rickety wooden chairs, “you can't expect perfection from anyone. Human beings are terribly, terribly flawed.” 

“I know, but how could all of them have forgotten? Every one of my friends.” 

“We as people are almost always narcissistic. We don't mean to be, but these are our lives and we have to live with them, dear, so we tend to get wrapped up in our own problems and not think about anything else. It's not their fault.”

“I know.” 

“Good. Anything exciting happen?” 

“I…” He hesitates to tell her and he doesn't know why.

She knows he's gay; she knows his soulmate is a man. Why is he so afraid of her judgement when he knows there won't be any? 

“I met my soulmate.” 

“Really?!” she grins and looks so, so happy for him. “That's amazing!” 

“It's Even...like the guy who is one of my best friends. He...he hid it from me for years...since college...damaged my self esteem, made me suffer...all because he was afraid I’d reject him or something equally as stupid.” 

“He hid it?” She asks, frowning. “That's…” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“You two should sit down. No yelling, no arguing, no beating around the bush. Honesty is the only thing that might salvage your friendship.” 

“And the relationship? Do you think it's salvageable?” 

“Maybe you should be asking yourself that.” 

Isak’s mom is some kind of a fucking all knowing wizard. He nods. 

-

Isak is still 27 when he corners Even in the elevator of their building. There's a tall man with copper hair sharing the space with them, though, so Isak tries to be discrete.

“Even,” he says, trying to whisper, “meet me at my flat.” 

The red-headed man raises his eyebrows but says nothing as the elevator begins to ascend. Isak thinks he knows him from somewhere. 

“It’s urgent and I have to do it now or I'll chicken out.” 

The other man clears his throat, adjusts his watch on his wrist, and tries to be sneaky about watching them from the corner of his eye; Isak nearly laughs at his attempt.

“Okay?” 

“Yeah,” Even says, looking sweaty and pale. “Alright.” 

“Good.” 

The red-headed man’s floor finally arrives and, as he gets out, he winks at Isak with a wide grin on his face. It's the sort of grin that makes you want to grin back, so Isak does. 

The elevator shuts and then they're alone. Isak stares at his reflection in the doors and wonders if, perhaps in a slightly different world, he and Even would already be together. If there had been no deception, no lies. 

Isak wonders what would have happened if Even had stayed in Norway. Would they have had a chance without the aliases? 

“What're you thinking about?” Even asks softly, looking at his shoes. “You always look so...contemplative. Lost in your own little world.” 

“I was thinking about alternate us-s.” 

“‘Us-s’?”

“Like, you and me. Us. Alternate earths where we met and knew instantly that we were meant for each other. Alternate universes where Sonja got to love her mate and Eva had one. Alternate universes where you don't like boys and I like neither. Alternate universes where you never came to New York, where you stay in Norway and we...we fall in love anyway through cute notes on arms and sketches behind knees.” 

The elevator doors open and Isak steps out. Even follows silently, looking like he's walking to his execution. 

Isak isn't sure why he would feel that way, but whatever. He can't care about anyone else but himself right now. 

“Coffee?” Isak asks as he unlocks his door and lets them in. 

Besides yogurt and soup, Isak basically lives on coffee. He also has water, though. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds good.” 

Isak immediately busies himself with the coffee machine because he isn't sure what else to do. When that's all set up, he's forced to look at Even who sits awkwardly at his kitchen table. 

“So…” 

“I talked to my mom today. Told her about all the shit you've put me through. She agreed that it's a whole lot of shit, you know, but she also disagrees with how I reacted. I shouldn't have gone out and fucked Julian because I was angry. It's not fair to him and it's certainly not fair to me, so I want to apologize. I also want to apologize for being a dick, because I was one, but also you kind of deserved.” 

“Don't apologize,” Even snaps and he looks mad. 

It's certainly not the reaction Isak had expected. 

“You fucked Julian; so what? I fuck Sonja all the time. I  _ date _ Sonja. I might  love Sonja. Don't apologize for shit like that.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

“I'm sick of you being so nice to people who walk _all_ over you—me included.” 

Isak does not let people walk all over him. He is a strong independent person and he doesn't need Even to validate him. He also doesn't have to listen to Even criticise who he is as a person. 

“Every single one of your friends forgot your birthday. No one remembered. No one had even spoken to you for weeks before that. You should be pissed. You should be _livid._ But you aren't and  _ that _ pisses me off!”

Isak was not looking for a fight; that hadn't been his intention at all. But if Even wants one, he’s got one. 

“Get _over_ yourself,” Isak says back, voice raising to a shout. “You don't have the right to talk to me like this!” 

“What're you gonna do about it? You're a fucking pushover!” Even shouts back. “I could literally push you and you would give in! You would just let me because you're too soft! Because you're a coward.” 

“Get  _ out _ of my goddamn house! This can't work! Why did I ever think it might? I can't deal with you or your words or your fucking scribbles anymore! Get out!” 

“No!” 

Isak steps forward and lays his hands on Even. He instantly regrets pushing him when Even narrows his eyes and steps back to regain his balance. 

“That's all you got?” He taunts, looking over Isak like a grim reaper. “Hit me! Go ahead. I deserve it! Punch me!” 

Isak sincerely thinks about it, but knows he can't. He's never even punched anyone for real before; he wouldn't even know how to make an effective fist. 

“Kick me! Scratch me! Slap me! Get out your rage! Be angry!” Even pushes Isak back and Isak stumbles but doesn’t fall. 

“Get out! Don't ever fucking touch me again!” 

“Why don't you go marry Julian, hmm? Go fuck him and wear his ring and take the goddamn pill for all I care! Goddamn it, Isak, just make a fucking _decision._ Break my heart. Go ahead. Do it!” 

“You broke mine first! You've been breaking it ever since I was thirteen!” Isak's strong facade, the one he wears when his friends insult him or hurt him, cracks a little. “You took it into your hands and you _strangled_ it. You ruined everything we could've been and for what? A couple years as friends? I thought there was something wrong with me. Something gross and unholy and undesirable, but it's not me, Even. It never was. It's you. You're the one who's ashamed and embarrassed about  _ yourself _ and you've been taking that out on me since day one! I'm tired of it.” 

Even stands there, chest heaving, and watches Isak. It's a very uncomfortable situation and Isak prays for an escape, but it doesn't come. 

“If we can't learn to respect the link between us and become friends,” Even says quietly, fearfully, “then I'm going to take the pill.”

With that as his final line, he leaves and slams the door behind him like he has the right to be angry. Isak stares at the blankness of his apartment and starts to weep. 

He's just had an awful year. 

-

Isak really is alone now. His friends don’t talk to him, they don't come to see him. It seems they've chosen which side they want to be on. 

So be it. 

When Isak's pushy co-worker, Chris, asks him out for drinks (again) later that month, this time he says yes. Mostly he does it because the other option is going home to his empty apartment, but also because he wants an excuse to call Julian and ask him to come, too. 

Drinks go alright. Chris is apparently a raging alcoholic who drinks the entire time and his wife is apparently Not That Asshole’s Wife after she herself has a couple glasses of tequila. 

Julian is cute, though, and sarcastic and kind, and makes up for every bad thing that happens. He's the highlight of the night, so Isak invites him to stay in his bed. 

Tonight he doesn't want to be alone. 

Halfway to his apartment, Isak begins to regret it because he remembers his place is a fucking wreck. 

He wishes he had cleaned up a bit, though, before asking because he's certain there’s at least 3 dirty coffee mugs on the table and a half-eaten piece of pizza in the microwave. He's a slob, okay. He always has been. 

“I have the night shift tomorrow night,” Isak tells Julian later when they're pressed together under the blankets, “so you have me all night tonight.” 

“What  _ ever _ will we do with all that time?”

“I have a couple ideas.” 

-

When Isak wakes the next morning to the sun in his eyes, he can taste ink, which is usually a sign that Even’s written something on their skin. 

He used to wake excited by the taste, but now it's stale and bitter, like burnt coffee and soap. 

Julian is asleep with Isak’s arm across his chest, snoring quietly. Even asleep, he's too adorable for words. 

Across his forearm are words he recognizes. In fact, they're the first words the two ever shared. 

Words from The Wombats’ Here Comes The Anxiety. 

**I hope that no one ever leaves,** **  
****Because I don't wanna be alone with me,** **  
****Not with the things that rush up and down this symphonous smile.** **  
****  
****Here comes the love, anxiety,** **  
****Can't let it grab a hold of me,** **  
** **Not like the last time.**

Isak stares at Even’s handwriting and wonders if this is it. If this is all they get to be. Sad song lyrics and the threat of one white pill. 

He shuts his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. When he does, nightmares of death and terror and decay are all that he finds. 

-

Isak wakes to a Julian dressing in a hurry. He's frantic, tossing things around Isak’s room to find his clothes, cursing under his breath the entire time. 

“Julian?” Isak asks, rubbing his eyes. “What's wrong?” 

“I...I have to go. I can't...do this anymore.” 

“What?” Isak sits up immediately and the blanket falls to his waist where he squeezes it like a lifeline. “What do you mean? What's wrong?”

“I didn't...I didn't think I'd get one, you know? But I did and I'm sorry, Isak, but I have to try it. I can't let this connection go to waste.” 

“Oh,” Isak says softly and he blinks a couple of times because he thinks he might cry. _"Oh."_

Another one bites the dust. 

“I'm so sorry. I really wish you the best and I hope you and Even come to an agreement because I want you to be happy. I just think—” 

“It's okay,” Isak says because he things that maybe he understands. “I...I get it.” 

Isak doesn't, not really, but he has to let Julian go if he wants to leave. He won't keep someone else from happiness. 

“I'm sorry,” he says once more when he's finally fully dressed. “I'm so sorry. Goodbye, Isak.” 

Julian leaves Isak’s bedroom door open when he goes, so Isak can't even be sad in fucking peace. 

He doesn't get up to shut it, though. Just stares up at the ceiling and blinks. He blinks and he blinks and he blinks until the world is blurry and he realizes he's crying. 

He thought he might finally get a chance, but now he realizes he never will. If destiny or fate were real things, eternal loneliness would be his. 

He sobs quietly, holding his own elbows as his chest shakes. Why does he even bother anymore? 

Why does every relationship in his life fall to shit? 

-

Isak’s dad dies two months later. 

There's no big funeral or anything because Isak can't stand to make one more thing in his life about that asshole.

He's already deaf in one ear. He won't give his dad's ghost or memory or whatever to the other. 

He gets buried in a cemetery in the middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania, and Isak brings his mother to say her goodbyes. A nurse accompanies them because she's in no state to be out on her own, not after the diagnosis she received a month and half ago. 

Isak’s friends don't come. They send him bullshit excuses for why they can't and he's glad they don't show up. He doesn't need any more drama in his life.

 

* * *

 

**From: Jonas at 09:24 AM on Sunday, November 27th**

I'm sorry, man. Wish I could be there but I'm in Seoul translating for some rich white guy lol 

-

**From: Sana at 10:38 AM on Sunday, November 27th**

Sorry for your loss. You know I’d have come if I wasn't stuck in Jersey for the rest of this week at a conference. 

-

**From: Magnus at 10:59 AM on Sunday, November 27th**

Wish I could be there to see you bury that dumbass. I have the championship game today!! Wish me luck man 

-

**From: Elias at 11:12 AM on Sunday, November 27th**

I'm so sorry. If it wasn't for this flu, I would be there with you. 

* * *

It's all bullshit. He gets a couple more from the others (all except Even), but doesn't respond to any of them. 

He can't be bothered with their shit today. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, either. Maybe never. 

The priest at the ceremony is a homophobic bigot, but he was Isak’s dad's best friend, so there's nothing Isak can do. He offered to do it for free, too, which is cool. Isak wouldn't have paid him for the service anyway. 

When it's over and Isak’s aunt, Julie, takes them all out to dinner, there's a disaster. A complication. 

Marianne forgets who they all are and where she is. She goes into a panic and won't let anyone touch her, not even her nurse. 

Isak begins to realize how sick she truly is. 

Alzheimer's is a fucking shitshow. 

They have to call an ambulance after she threatens Isak with a steak knife. The minute she's taken away and sedated, Isak walks directly to a Turkey Hill up the street and buys a pack of cigarettes that cost significantly less than they do in New York. 

He hasn't smoked since he was 23, but he sits on the crumbling steps of a Presbyterian church and smokes the whole pack. 

On the second to last one, he presses the burning end into the skin of his hand and cries out. He can't even begin to explain why he did it. 

His phone rings as he leaves to buy a second pack. He needs to escape and the safest way right now is through cigarettes. 

“Isak? It's Patti, your mum's nurse,” Patti is annoyingly British. “I'm calling to say we’re driving her back to the facility in the city tonight. She's okay, but needs to return to her schedule.” 

She says  _ schedule _ all weird and pompous. For some reason, it bothers Isak so badly that he scribbles it on his arm.  **Schedule.** The Brits are absolutely ridiculous. 

“I think that's what confused her the most, the change in routine, so you can see her for visitation later this week if you want. I'm sure she'd like that.” 

“Okay,” he says emotionlessly. “I'll make sure to come. Thank you for calling.” 

“Drive safe, Isak.” 

“You, too.” 

He goes into the Turkey Hill and buys a six pack of beer and his second pack of Marlboros. Once he's done, he gets into his car and drives all the way home without stopping. 

He climbs into bed and has a beer. He'd have had liquor or something, but he has work tomorrow night and also Turkey Hills apparently don't serve 'the hard stuff', as the cashier said. 

Isak can see ink appearing on him, can taste it too, and sighs. Checks his arm. 

**What are you scheduling?**

**Nothing now.**

The funeral’s over. Isak has nothing left to sort out. 

**What was it?**

**My dad's funeral.**

It's like he hung up right in Isak’s fucking face when he doesn't answer. Whatever. 

Maybe Isak should go see a shrink. 

-

Isak comes home from work the next day to all of his old friends in his living room. Jonas is there with a weird looking beard, Mahdi and his fiancee are, too, and even Even bothered to show up. Sonja is with him, though. 

“Hi,” Eva says when he closes the door behind him. “Long time, no see.” 

“I could say the same,” he says sharply, dropping his keys onto the table by the door. “How are your lives without me?” 

“Isak—” 

“You know what?” he says bitterly. “I don't think I care. I'm going to bed.” 

“Isak!” Chris cries out, looking at him with anger in her eyes. 

Isak has never seen her angry. It's so bizarre that his walking falters and he stops. Everyone else seems just as shocked.

“Listen to what we have to say.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because we're—”

“Don't you _dare_ say my friends,” he says back, sharpness returning to his voice. “Because friends care about friends. They wish them happy birthday. They ask how they're doing. They give advice. They show up to the funerals of their friends’ dead parents.”

She sighs and says, “Because we’re _worried_ about you.” 

“You're heading down a slippery slope,” Mahdi adds. 

“How would you guys even know?” He narrows his eyes. 

“We have spies.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who? Brian at the liquor store? My heroin dealer Frank? Trish who sells me over priced cigarettes at the 7-11 on Main?” 

“You're smoking again?” Vilde says softly, eyeing the package in his pocket. “But...you worked so hard to quit!” 

“Yeah,” Isak sighs, “nicotine is addictive. What else can I say? Addicts relapse.” 

“How often are you drinking?” 

“That's none of your business.” 

“What happened to Julian?” Mutta asks. “You deleted the pictures of him off your Insta.” 

“He...His soulmate wrote him. We weren't even really together, though.” 

Isak is over the interrogation, but seeing all of his friends again is bringing back the pain he's tried so hard to ignore. He misses them so much that he doesn't try to leave again. 

“I'm sorry,” Eva says with a frown, like she understands, which she doesn't. 

She might never understand because her soulmate is either dead or doesn't have the gene that connects two people. Isak doesn't say this because he doesn't want to hurt her, which he knows it will.

“That was wrong of him.” 

Isak doesn't say anything. What can he say? He knows the chances of late bloomers leaving their partners for their real soulmate is extremely high. Everyone wants to know what makes the soulbond so special. Everyone is curious. 

Isak hopes for both Noora and Eva’s sake that their soulmates stay gone. They're perfect together and they don't need ink to prove it. 

“You've got to get it together,” Sana says unhelpfully. “Maybe your world has fallen apart. Maybe everything sucks. But you have to pull yourself together.” 

“My mother has Alzheimer's,” Isak says flatly. 

No one knows what to say to that, so he starts toward his room again. Mikael grabs his arm to stop him. 

“We're sorry for abandoning you,” he says quietly. “We talked about it and realize that that's exactly what we did. We didn't apologize. We didn't say anything. It's unfair to you that we tried to ignore what happened when it so obviously bothered you.” 

“Thank you,” Isak says softly, feeling a bit silly. “I appreciate that.” 

Isak turns around as he remembers Jonas is there. 

“How'd you get back from Seoul so quickly?” He accuses. 

“The minute I heard your father died, I tried to catch an early flight to get here in time for it, but I was a day late due to a weather thing in Russia that fucked up my connecting flight.” 

“Sana? You're back from Poughkeepsie awful soon.” 

“It was Trenton,” she corrects. “And I left as soon as I could, truly.” 

“It doesn't matter,” Isak says, looking away. “I don't know if I can forgive you.” 

“We're just asking you to try,” Elias says meaningfully, blowing his nose into a tissue. “Just try.”

“We know it's more than we deserve,” Adam adds. 

Even has yet to say anything. Isak wonders what he would say if he could. If they were alone, would he scream at Isak again for being ‘soft’ and forgiving them? 

“I'm going to try,” Isak decides, turning to stare right at Even. “But just know that I won't give you this chance again so don't fuck it up.” 

Even glares at him from across the room, arms crossed. Sonja stares between the two of them and furrows her brow. 

Isak quickly realizes Even never told her about them. About what they are. 

Pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me some feedback??? do you think Isak's doing the right thing by forgiving them?? thanks so much x
> 
> side note: who is the guy in the elevator with them and how has no one made the connection yet


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Santa au was supposed to be updated next, but I already finished writing this, so here you go!!! Listen to the song I linked in the chapter, too!!! That remix is so good.

Isak really loves his job. He truly, wholeheartedly does, but it's begin to run him ragged. He knows the turnover rate for ER doctors is high and is worried about becoming just another statistic.

He's tired _all_ the time. His shifts are in a seemingly never ending streak of 16 hour and 19 hour days. In fact, he doesn't even know how he's standing by the end of his longest shift on record—22 hours.

A busful of children hit an icy road and go off an embankment. The casualties are high and so are the injuries.

It's a sad night. Thankfully it's almost over.

“Dr. Valtersen,” says Isak’s friend and co-worker, Dr. Harlock, says as she runs into him in the hall on his way to clock out, “Stevens is looking for you.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

“Stevens” is Isak’s boss in every sense of the word. She basically runs this hospital and, while being a royal pain in his ass, manages to be the nicest lady Isak knows.

He wishes silently and desperately that he could speak to her tomorrow instead because he is dead on his feet, but knows it probably can't wait, so he turns on his heel and heads to her office on the third floor.

Her door is, thankfully, open, so he knocks as he enters and greets her with a tired and polite smile.

“Isak!” Dr. Jessica Stevens says brightly, looking like she's definitely slept more than he has. “How are you?”

“Honestly, I'm dead,” he laughs lightly. “I've got a shift in a couple of hours, so I’d really appreciate your brevity.”

“Oh, of course.” Jessica nods. “Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you about position as head ER doctor.”

Is she going to fucking _fire_ him? Oh, God. Shit. Fuck. What will he do when he's unemployed? He'll have to move in with Eva or something and she'll have to support his ass while he works part time at the CVS down the street and hates his life. Oh, Christ. He's still paying on his loans!

“How do you like your job?”

“I love helping people,” he says, trying not to sound as desperate as his thoughts, “and I love making a difference. I just...I don't _love_ the hours all the time.”

“I'm glad you said that because I have an offer for you. A position just opened up in pediatric surgery in the Danville hospital and I was wondering if you'd be interested.”

At least he's not getting fired.

“Pay’s on the higher end and days are much shorter and regular. You'd have to move there, though.”

“Danville?”

“Yeah. In Pennsylvania.”

Wow. That's...that’s a long drive.

“Um…”

“Take the weekend to think about it, yeah? I asked them to hold the spot for you until then. Talk it through with your friends or family whatever. It's a wonderful opportunity, Isak, and I think you'd be just the right person to take it. You're especially qualified for the job, I think.”

“Oh, my _God,”_ he says softly.

What an _opportunity._

“Have a nice weekend! Go get some rest and come see me at the start of your shift on Monday!”

Isak nods furiously, in fucking _shock,_ and leaves. He's not even at the exit of the hospital before he decides he has to do it.

He has to get away from all this soulmate shit.

The only thing has to to figure out is what he's going to do about his mom. He can't have her transferred out of a facility she's comfortable in so he'll just have to drive over to see her every couple weeks. With a more regular schedule (and better money), he's sure it'll all work out.

Hopefully.

-

Isak’s hanging out with Jonas in his apartment on Sunday night when he suddenly tastes ink. He has to suppress a groan when he does because he's over it. Over Even’s melodramatic bullshit.

**Where are you right now?**

He doesn't have a pen, so he asks Jonas for one. Unusually, he has one tucked away in his pocket.

**Jonas’**

**Oh.**

Isak rolls his eyes. Even sure has a dramatic streak.

**What did you want**

**There's a package outside your door. Well, it's like an envelope.**

**Why are u standing outside my door**

**I was looking for you.**

**Oh. Did u wanna talk?**

Now that Isak has an escape, a true plan to fix his life, he's not afraid of talking to Even. He's not hesitant or cautious. Now he's exasperated.

“Writing Even?” Jonas asks and, when Isak nods, he makes a surprised noise.

“You're surprised?”

“A little. He didn't even, like, apologize to you, right? Have you forgiven him?”

Isak sighs. He puts the cap back on the pen.

“I got a new job.”

“Really?” Jonas smiles. “Making more money?”

“Yeah, a little. Pediatric surgeon, which is, you know, completely awesome. The only thing is it's in...uh...Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, shit. So you're leaving?” Jonas is the coolest, so Isak knew it would be easiest to tell him. “When?”

“I don't know yet. Soon.”

“The guys are gonna flip,” he muses. “I think it'll be good for you, though. You need to get away for awhile.”

“I just don't know how I'm going to break it to Even that I don't want him to write me.”

“Wait, what?”

Jonas sits up straight, frowning at him in the way a parent does their rowdy kid; Isak hates being parented. Hates feeling _patronized._

“I can't take him with me, not even on the opposite side of my skin.”

“Does that mean...will we ever see you again?”

“Probably. My mom's still in the Manor and will be for a long time, so I'll be driving up to see her. We could meet for burgers or pizza or something.”

“Yeah, alright. Sounds good.”

“If he can't comply with my wishes like I did his for seven fucking years, I'll be forced to take the pill. I'm not taking that drama to my new life.”

-

On Monday morning, Isak tells Jessica that he's going to take the job. She says she's found an apartment for him nearby.

It's the best news Isak has heard in a while.

It's in his price range, within driving distance to the hospital, and looks nice. Apparently apartments are cheaper in Pennsylvania towns, so he gets a nice apartment for what a studio would've cost him in the city.

She also tells him he starts in three weeks which gives him enough time to work out the details of his departure. That's the easy part.

The hard part comes after his shift is over and done with and he's heading to Even's apartment to break the news.

He knocks and knocks until the door’s pulled open and Sonja stands in Isak's way.

Their meeting is uncomfortable and awkward. She's thankfully on her way out, so they say hi and then bye.

“Even?” Isak says. “I...I have to talk to you about some things.”

“Is it bad news? Because I can't take much more today.”

“What's wrong?” Isak has a heart, okay.

Plus one day he and Even might be friends. That would be nice. No fighting, no angst, no drama. Just friends.

“Sonja broke up with me. Her soulmate...or her ex one...called her and said he was sorry about everything. That he wants to give it a go. And because we're all so desperate for unconditional, unproblematic love, she decided to break it off with me.”

“Sorry.”

“It was a long time coming.”

Isak closes the door and settles down on Even's couch. Even sits across from him on a love seat Sonja made him buy.

“I got a job in Pennsylvania. I'm moving in 3 weeks.”

“Congratulations,” he says blankly, looking indifferent.

“I...This is unbelievably hard for me to ask...but I have to for my own health. Just know I'm not doing it to hurt you or threaten you or manipulate you in any way, okay? This decision is solely and selfishly for myself because I _have_ to be the adult here. I have to fix my life and I have to grow up.”

Even's eyes are wide and he squeezes his hands together; Isak feels as nervous as he looks.

“I would like you to not write to me while I'm gone.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“A long time.”

“How can you just expect me to not want to...to...to stay connected with you? You're my soulmate.”

“If you...If you don't respect my wishes for blank skin, I'll...I'll be forced to take drastic measures.”

“Like what?” His face hardense . “Take the pill? Fucking do it then. Don't try and _manipulate_ me—”

“That's not my intention. I don't _want_ to take the pill, Even, but if you give me no other choice, I will. I'm going to start my own life in Danville and hopefully get a boyfriend who will never have a soulmate. Someone who took the pill or doesn't have the gene.”

“What about me? Don't I get a say in this?”

“I'm not sure what you mean. Why should you get a say in what I do or do not want on my skin?”

“It’s my skin, too!”

“I'm not tattooing my entire body,” Isak scoffs, remembering suddenly that he's dealing with a grown man and not a child. “I'm just asking for space and time. I'm also not asking for perfection either. I just don't want you to _contact_ me at all, is what I'm saying.”

Even sighs, crosses his arms. Pouts. What a fucking child.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Isak shares a look with him, one full of anger and pain on one side and exhaustion on the other, and leaves.

He'll do the others a different day.

-

Somehow, the time gets away from Isak. By the next week, he's only managed to tell Eva, Chris, and Noora.

So he sends out a group text and asks everyone to meet at his apartment on his day off.

He doesn't have long until he's gone thankfully.

When everyone's seated around his apartment with pizza Mahdi and Mica, his fiance, brought, Isak starts his speech.

“So...it’s pretty common knowledge that I'm going through some crazy shit. Between you guys and the whole soulmate thing...I’m more than a little stressed out. I'm also stretched quite thin at the hospital with longer and longer shifts. Erratic hours. Exhausting routines.”

“I didn't know they were working you so hard,” Mahdi says sadly.

“They are, yeah. But I've been offered this _great_ job...as head pediatric surgeon. It has regular hours with a better pay and a steady routine.”

“You should take it,” Elias says helpfully. “Why _wouldn't_ you?”

“I did take it. There's just. There's a catch.”

“When isn't there?” Even murmurs unhelpfully.

Isak ignores him.

“It’s like 3 hours away by car. It's in Pennsylvania.”

The room is quiet besides Magnus’ chewing. Eva and Noora are looking at him sympathetically, Jonas looks ready to defend his choice, and Elias and Sana look like they understand. Mikael smiles at Isak like he's proud, as do Chris and Mahdi, and Adam, Yousef, and Mutta nod their heads.

They all get it.

All except Even.

“I'm happy for you,” Sana says.

“We’ll still see you, right? You'll call or text or whatever, too, right?” Magnus asks.

Isak tries not to say ‘You guys didn't even miss me when I didn’t’ but manages to keep his bitterness to himself.

“Of course. My mom's still in the home, so I'll be by to see her, too.”

“And you'll be writing, too, right?’” Even asks snobbishly even though he knows the answer.

It's like he's looking for a fight where he knows Elias will defend him.

Isak’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

“We talked about it already. Stop beating a dead horse.”

Mutta frowns at Isak, “A dead horse?”

“It's an idiom. It just means, like...stop wasting time on renegotiating something that's already been decided.”

“So what? You won't write Even?”

Isak rubs his nose, irritated about having to continue talking about things he's already talked about. He's so fucking tired of this back and forth shit.

“No, I won't. I asked him not to write me and I told him I wouldn't write him.”

“You didn't ask me,” he says negatively. “You told me.”

“Yes, well, it's my skin, isn't it?”

“But it's also mine—”

“If you want your own skin so goddamn bad,” Isak snaps harshly, “why don't you take the fucking pill and give me some goddamn peace of mind?”

The room quiets. Isak’s chest is rising and falling rapidly with irritation. Even looks hurt, but Isak can't care. Doesn't want to.

“I leave on Friday.”

-

Isak’s friends take him out Saturday night.

He has work at 5 in the morning on Monday, but he's pretty sure his hangover will be gone by then.

Everyone comes. They go to a shitty club for losers and Isak meets Jonas’ soulmate, a girl named Catherine who has a shaved head and looks too edgy for her whole _thing_ to be real. She's really nice, even though she is quite a bit pretentious.

Jonas says it's only the second time they've hung out and Isak wants to believe him. He just has a hard time because of how instantly they click; it's like they've known each other for months.

Isak has a little too much to drink.

He's not drunk yet, just glowing. It's more alcohol than he'd planned to drink anyway.

Mahdi and Mica dance softly to something loud and boisterous and it's the cutest thing Isak’s ever seen. They're so good for each other.

Sometimes, he supposes, soulmates do work out. He looks over at Even and supposes that sometimes they don't.

“Want to dance?” Mutta is standing in front of him with a mischievous smile. “I'm dying to, but I don't wanna look stupid.”

Isak laughs because Mutta is the best dancer in the group besides Yousef, and nods. Takes Mutta’s arm and struts out into the crowd.

-

As the night wears on, Isak gets a Sprite and sobers up. He shares a “hand rolled, organic” cigarette with Catherine and Jonas, and basks in the cool nighttime air. He's drunk on happiness and relief and a nice night out.

When he goes back inside, he notices Even sitting all alone. He's been sitting there all night with only brief exchanges with their friends. He's alienating himself by being a royal prick all the time.

It's fucking sad. No one should be sad on a night like this.

Isak tries to remember that guy he met at the bar a while ago. What was his name again? Devon?

He said something to Isak that he know remembers fondly. It fits the situation to a t.

Isak slides into the opposite side of Even’s booth and repeats it to Even with a broad, awkward smile and a laugh.

“‘This party is a living breathing thing and sadness will kill it like a disease!’”

He hopes he sounds even half as convincing as that guy did.

“Are you drunk?” Even asks, irritated.

“No! I had a rum and coke like 2 hours ago but that's it.” He also had some vodka, but that was a while ago, too.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“Because it's my going away party and everyone deserves to celebrate!”

“I don't feel like celebrating.”

“Why not?”

“Because I made you leave. I do that to everyone, it seems.”

“What?” This conversation has officially soured Isak’s buzz.

Bummer.

“What do you mean everyone? Look at this club! It's full of our friends! Friends who all live in the city with us!”

“You don’t think they're gonna blame me because you're gone? They probably already do and they're right to.”

“I'm not leaving because of _you._ Not everything in my life revolves around one single boy who maybe sorta broke my heart, okay? I'm leaving because it's a better job. It's a better set up. I love my job now, but it's running me ragged. I'll die if I keep up this life that I'm living.”

“Oh.”

“So go dance, mate! The night is young and so are we!”

“We’re almost thirty,” Even says blankly and then smiles a little. “Oh, how old we've gotten!”

“Then let's live—”

“Don't say it!”

“—while we’re young!”

Isak loves indirectly quoting One Direction songs, especially at Even. It’s stillbfucking hilarious, just like it always has been.

“You're awful!” Even says with a groan.

Isak is not British. He knows his accent is shit. He does it anyway. “I know! I'm just _bloody_ terrible!”

“Stop it! My ears!”

“Let’s dance!”

“What, me and you?”

“Why not?” Isak is feeling bulletproof tonight.

Nothing can bring him down.

“Okay.”

Isak grabs Even's hand and leads him into the crowd. The music fills his veins and becomes a part of him as they sway and laugh and stumble.

Even's skin is hot and sweaty and he smells like paper and whiskey and expensive cologne. Isak wonders if Even can tell Isak still wears the cologne he bought him all that time ago.

He also wonders why he wonders.

“I'm sorry,” Even says softly when the songs shifts, becomes something darker and louder. “I've been an ass.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“I was just afraid of not being enough. Of being not good enough. So I pushed you away. I drove you away. I did all I could to get you to hate me.”

“It almost worked,” Isak says back. “We can talk later. Let's just dance.”

And so they do. They grind and they touch and they sing the words to songs they don't know.

Isak hasn't felt this happy in years probably. Hasn't felt this light in his entire life.

This is what could have been.

Isak nudges Even with his shoulder when The Wombats starts to play, remixed with something Isak doesn't know that gives it an edgy alternative vibe.

He doesn't like this version, but he sings the words he knows and watches Even sing them, too.

 "'[Oh, and she hits like ecstasy/ Comes up and bangs the sense out of me'.](https://youtu.be/7jM2u-I6I2k)"

Isak isn't straight, but the original song is so good that he loves it anyway. Is so lost in the words that he makes a big mistake by leaning up and kissing Even just because that's how this song makes his feel.

He has to try it at least once before he goes away, anyway.

Who knows what Danville will bring? He might never get the chance again.

So he grabs Even’s face and kisses him, lets Even drag him in close so their bodies are pressed together, tangles his fingers in Even's hair.

It's so soft. Even's skin is so smooth. He is so goddamn beautiful. Fuck.

Everything around Isak is lost to how good this feels. How right. Even's hands belong on Isak’s hips and Isak’s fingers belong tangled in Even's hair.

That's just the way things are.

Even's lips feel godlike as he kisses him softly, delicately, like he's savoring every second. His hands are firm, though. Unrelenting.

He traces his veins, tickles his artery, skims his collarbone. Nothing has ever felt as good as this does. _Nothing._

“God,” Isak moans out when Even’s legs shift, pressing fleetingly against his thigh and his dick. “Oh, my _God_.”

Isak lets his hands wander, lets them trace Even’s arms and chest and back. He kisses him with all the pain and anguish he's had pent up inside of him for a year. For almost thirty.

“Isak,” Even whispers as Isak scratches gently at his back. _“Christ.”_

“Let's go,” Isak says and he hadn't actually intended to, but it's a great idea.

Even's body against his feels great, but what about his skin against Isak’s? Dear God. He wants Even so badly and suddenly that he can't help himself.

Is this the soulmate connection at work? Do Mahdi and Mica feel this way every single time they touch? Jonas and Catherine?

“Bathroom?” Even asks.

“My apartment?” Isak knows Even.

He knows what he likes in his coffee, in his tea. He knows the password to his phone and has a key to his apartment. He can bring him back to his bed and not worry about anything because he knows in his heart Even wouldn't hurt him physically. He wouldn't even try.

-

The Uber drive is awkward to say the least. Their driver has a confederate flag bumper sticker and plays country music the entire way back to their building.

Even keeps squeezing his knee, too, which doesn’t help his boner, but does make their driver ignore them, which is nice. Isak hates talking to his Uber drivers when they look like bigots.

When he drops them off, Isak can't wait until they're inside to kiss him, so he presses him up against the building and brushes his fingers across the seam of Even’s jeans.

“What are your plans for tonight, Mr. Bech Næsheim?” Isak asks softly, hand still against Even’s pants.

“Oh, I don't know.” His voice is shaky when he answers. “Grade some...some papers, I think.”

“Really?” Isak presses his palm down. “Sounds interesting.”

“Oh, it...is.”

Isak grins and kisses him again, lets himself enjoy it for only a couple heartbeats before he pulls away.

“Do you need any help? With your papers?”

“Absolutely.”

Isak holds Even’s hand in the elevator as it rises because there's another person inside. A tall ginger man who shares a knowing look with Isak.

Isak and Even are both hard, so he probably knows what they're up to.

When they're alone, Even hugs Isak from behind gently. It's not something sexual, though. It's a friend hugging a friend.

“I'm gonna miss you,” he says quietly into Isak’s left ear because he knows he can't hear out of his right one.  “So much.”

The elevator door opens and they walk our hand in hand. Isak still feels weightless when Even leads him inside to the bed.

Isak’s just happy he made his bed.

-

Isak wakes to a dry mouth and a dick against his ass.

He doesn't even have to try to remember what happened because it's at the forefront of his mind.

Even’s skin is warm all around him, comforting and soft. He can't explain why he feels so safe in the arms of a liar, but he doesn't particularly care. Five days and he's out of here.

His lease was do for a renewal anyway, so he doesn't have to worry about paying for two apartments, and half his stuff is in boxes already, so it was time he cleaned this break with Even. It needed to be done.

If he'd left things messy, it would've driven him crazy. Now, everything's a little neater. A little easier. Calmer.

“Hey,” Even says softly, sleepily. “There's something I need to ask you.”

Isak turns around so he can see him, his beautiful eyes still half-lidded, his hair a fucking mess. How does Even still manage to be the most beautiful person Isak has ever seen when he looks like a wreck?

“Do you...Do you want me to ask you to stay? Because I will. I would want to if you want me to.”

Isak’s surprised. His eyes widen and he scoffs a little, quietly. He certainly hadn't expected that.

“I think...I think I need you to tell me it's okay to go. I know I don't need your permission and I'll go even if I don't get it, but if would be...you know...nice or whatever if you could. If we ever could give _this_ a go...I think me leaving is the only chance we have.”

“Okay,” Even nods, smiles a little. “Okay. I think you should go. Maybe when you come back...when you visit...we could see each other? Just like get a pizza or burgers or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, looking away. “Maybe.”

-

Before Isak knows it, his stuff is loaded into the bed of Elias’ truck and everyone's hugging him. Isak's apartment looks bare when he locks it up. It isn't his home anymore.

His friends are all a little somber, a little quiet, but he's excited. It's a new life. His new life.

He can do whatever he wants with it.

“I'm gonna miss you guys,” Isak says, feeling reminiscent. “I'll see you in a couple months, yeah?”

He climbs into the passenger’s side of Elias’ truck as Elias gets in on the otherwise.

Thankfully he'd offered to drive Isak there with his things. Elias is a godsend.

Isak waves at them as the truck begins to move and they wave back. Even's smile, half sad, half hopeful, is burned into Isak’s mind when he turns away.

He just hopes that this new life is a lot simpler than his old one.

-

Isak’s return to the city takes longer than his friends would like, apparently. It pisses him off a little that now that he's gone, they seem to care, but when he was around, they could ignore him for weeks and not give a damn.

He gets more text messages than he thinks they've ever sent him and he even gets actual paper mail from Jonas who says his soulmate wants him to “de-tech” or something.

Catherine is trying to change Jonas into a super edgy, “organic cigarette” smoking, low tech hipster and Isak thinks it's hilarious.

His job has so easily become something he doesn't hate to do and it's blowing his mind. He likes his coworkers and his bosses and he likes getting to know the kids he's working with. Surgery isn't fun and is probably really scary for kids under 13, so Isak tries his best to help them understand that he's going to do his all to help them and, most of the time, they get it. Sometimes it's a little challenging and a lot heartbreaking. Sometimes he can't imagine any kid having to go through the things they do and it makes him terribly sad.

His first stop when he returns is to see his mother, whose Alzheimer's is getting worse and worse. She doesn't recognize him at first, acts polite but distant, until he reminds her who he is.

Then she breaks out into a wide grin. Tells all of her nurses and friends that this is her son, the pediatric surgeon. Tells them how proud she is.

Isak could fucking cry, but he doesn't. He just spends the whole day with her until visiting hours are over.

“When will you be back?” she asks.

“Day after tomorrow,” he smiles. “No visiting hours tomorrow.”

So he hugs her goodbye and heads to his hotel. Then he texts his friends that he's in town for the weekend.

* * *

 

**From: yakisak at 9 PM on June 30th**

I'm in town for the weekend guys

**From: Jonas**

We have to go out!!

**From: Mahdi**

Omg yes we do

**From: Magnus**

I'm away at football camp :(((( why did u choose this weekend of all weekends????? I can't leave these little brats to fend for themselves while im out getting drunk

**From: Eva**

Let's get fucked up!!!!!

**From: Elias**

Aren't we like 30 years old guys

How long are we gonna act like 20 year olds

**From: yakisak**

For the rest of our lives!!!!!!

I leave Sunday afternoon :)

* * *

It's only after sending the message that he realizes that it's not true. They won't end up like a One Direction song and live forever. Hell, maybe they won't even live for another decade. 

But they still have to grow up because that's how the world works. You either move along with the too fast pace and become someone who younger you wouldn't recognize or you stop growing and live long enough to become stagnant, dead on your feet from the same goddamn routine. 

Isak can't figure out which he'll be and he's grateful that he won't have to consciously decide. After all, how could he when the options are so awful? So black and white? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read my other works, you'll know I'm not a smut writer. It's just not what I do. So sorry if you were expecting that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! I truly appreciate any and all feedback. Also I know some things were left a little...unresolved but life is like that. Not everything gets completely worked out and that's what this series is supposed to represent!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know about any issues! hope you enjoyed :)


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